


When the Devil Cries

by HysteriaLevi



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2019-08-23 23:50:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 125,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16628870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HysteriaLevi/pseuds/HysteriaLevi
Summary: **NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY**After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur must also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.(This is based on the same romance in my other work "The Faith of Dead Men," but I've altered the story a bit so it's not exactly the same.)





	1. Leave No Stone Unturned

From Eddie’s POV

NEW HANOVER

I dragged my boots through the thick, slimy mud as rain poured down from the monstrous clouds above, my hands trembling with fear around the shotgun in my grip. 

I had never killed a man before -- let alone an entire gang -- and I didn’t know if I was ready at all for what was about to come...but Arthur’s life was in danger. Those...O’Driscolls, I think they were called -- they had taken him. Something to do with a feud between their leader and Dutch van der Linde. 

But no one in the gang knew where Arthur was. I was the only one here at the moment actually making an effort to save the man, and with every passing second, I could feel my heart racing faster and faster as Colm O’Driscoll practically drilled his revolver into the side of Arthur’s head, threatening to shoot him right then and there.

“Look at the big, bad wolf now!” Colm taunted loudly with a raspy laugh, his wrinkled grin revealing the yellow teeth underneath. “Not so tough now, are you...Mister Morgan? Oh, if only good ol’ Dutch could see you...! How mad that man would be!”

I raised my shotgun at Colm and inched closer towards him, gulping in anxiety as droplets of water and sweat rolled down my forehead.

“L-Let him go, O’Driscoll!” I demanded, sounding about as intimidating as a puppy barking up a tree. “...Or I’ll...I’ll shoot you!”

Colm’s nasty smile only seemed to stretch wider at that and he let out a hoarse cackle, his men laughing brazenly with him.

“This...” he mocked, gesturing towards me as he smirked at Arthur, “...this...is your knight in shining armor...?! Some little lost soul come across the pond, searching for his one, true, love?”

Colm wiped away fake tears from his eyes and shook his head, afterwards pulling down the hammer on his gun.

“Hoo, I never knew you was such a hopeless romantic, Morgan. But I guess that’s why you still runnin’ with Dutch, ain’t it? You lot is always chasin’ some nonexistent treasure on the other side o’ the world. ...Heh. Guess you finally found yours. Wonder what would happen...if I put a bullet in him?”

Arthur grew even more restless at that and attempted to wrangle free, only to receive a bash to the head.

“...Leave the boy outta this, Colm...!” He barked, somewhat dazed from the hit. “He ain’t got...nothin’ to do with this! He’s just a goddamn kid...!”

Colm chuckled, smiling wickedly in my direction. 

“So? Kids die as well as adults, I’ve heard. ...Mind if I test that theory?”

Arthur turned to me this time, his eyes full of distress.

“Eddie, listen to me. Get the hell outta here! NOW! It ain’t worth it...! Go back home. Forget about me!”

Colm frowned playfully, tilting his head in a condescending manner.

“Aww, would ya look at that? The big brute ain’t so emotionless, after all. Never would’ve guessed you was sweet on boys, Morgan. But I suppose it makes sense, seein’ as how no woman’s dumb enough to have you.”

I ignored the snickers from his men and simply tightened my grip on the shotgun, steadily aiming the barrel straight at Colm as Arthur desperately tried to get my attention.

“Don’t do it!” He shouted over the howling wind as the other O’Driscolls pointed their own guns at me. I knew there was next to no chance of me leaving this place alive, and I wasn’t nearly as fast as Arthur with a gun, but I was still intent on at least trying to save him. 

I owed him that much, no matter how much of a bad man he believed he was.

“Eddie!” Arthur exclaimed again, spitting out the rain that spilled over his lips. “Listen to me, goddammit! Put the gun down...and run!”

Colm firmly held the revolver to Arthur’s temple, his finger snaking over its trigger as glared at me with a daring look in his eyes.

“Yes, Eddie...” he goaded. “Be a good boy, and run...”

I could hear the sharp clicks of the other O’Driscolls cocking their guns, every single one of us now on the other end of a barrel.

By now, we were all soaked head-to-toe in water -- dirty and shivering in the wind -- and the more rain that flooded through the land, the more Colm merely saw it as a chance to wash away the bloodshed that was about to commence. But I didn’t care.

Steeling myself, I remembered what Arthur taught me and took a deep breath, preparing to fire on the exhale as I came to terms with my impending death. I knew this was probably going to end up killing me, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid to die...but saving Arthur was the only thing that mattered to me right now, and I was going to do anything to achieve it.

Holding the shotgun still, Colm saw the spark in my eyes and grinned maliciously, almost urging me on as a bolt of lightning struck in the distance, rumbling throughout the land with thunder.

I had no idea what I was walking into, and there was a small chance I’d walk out of it, but I was ready.

I was ready to give my life...in exchange for Arthur’s. 

I breathed out.

~~~~~~~~~~

TWO MONTHS AGO

From Arthur’s POV

SHADY BELLE - MORNING

“Wake up, son!”

I felt a pair of hands shaking me into consciousness -- rather aggressively, actually -- as I forced my eyes open, only to see an elated Dutch standing above me, his figure mostly blocked out by the golden sun above.

“...Hrrmm...” I mumbled, squinting at him. “...Wuddizit...?”

Hosea stepped next to Dutch, the both of them now looking down at me as I tore myself away from my bed.

“Dutch here wants to visit Saint Denis,” the older man explained. “See what sort of business we can strike up. It is quite a busy city, after all. Lots of money going through there.”

“And lots of fools with cash just sittin’ in their pockets.” Dutch added, lighting a pipe. “We’d be morons to pass up this opportunity!”

I slid a hand down my face, still not quite fully awake yet.

“Agreed...but do we gotta do this now? Half the camp’s still asleep.”

Dutch smiled eagerly. “C’mon, Arthur! The longer we have to explore this city, the more its secrets will open up to us. And a place like this definitely has its secrets. Trust me.”

Hosea gave him a cautionary glance. “As well as plenty of guardians who will probably want to keep those secrets under the surface. We’ll need to keep a low profile.”

Dutch took a drag. “Good idea. In that case, we should probably avoid the saloons for now, seeing as how Arthur’s comin’ along. Ha!”

I rolled my eyes. “That was one time, Dutch. And besides, Bill technically started that fight.”

“Yes,” he conceded, “but you finished it, if I recall correctly. In the middle of the town. In a crowd. Covered in mud. Where everyone could see you. Need I go on?”

I stood up from the bed, grabbing my hat off the end table.

“Alright, alright...I get it. Fine. I’ll meet you by the mounts. Just...gimme a minute, would you? Lemme have some coffee, at least.”

Dutch chuckled. “I knew you’d be up for it. Come on, Hosea!” He wrapped his arm around him, patting the man’s shoulder as they walked off. “Saint Denis awaits. Y’know, I’ve heard there’s a famous theater in town with lots of visitors just throwin’ their money away. Perhaps we could check it out. Where better to display our theatrics?”

Hosea nodded in approval. “That sounds like a good place to start. Maybe I could make Arthur act as my idiot brother once more. He’s quite good at it, actually.”

I took my mug out of my satchel, filling it with some freshly-brewed coffee. “I can still hear you, y’know?”

“Melvin” continued with his act. “Ah-ah! Shush, Fenton! You’ve turned idiot, remember?”

I brought the mug up to my lips, grumbling to myself. “...Oh, I remember.”

Dutch let out a hearty laugh. 

“We have the whole day ahead of us, gentlemen! There’s not a single stone in Saint Denis that will be left unturned by the time we’re done with it. So let’s make the best of it.” He lifted a finger. “Remember: just one more, good score...and we’re free men. We just have to fight...a little bit longer. All I ask, is that you have faith in me. We will make it through this, and we will survive. Trust me.”

Hosea and I exchanged looks, switching to a more sincere tone as I joined the two of them.

“We do, Dutch,” I replied. “...With our lives.”


	2. The Pianist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I got some good feedback from you guys so here we are. I hope you’ll continue to enjoy this fic, and thank you so much for your support :)

From Arthur’s POV

SAINT DENIS

Riding alongside Dutch and Hosea, the three of us exited the gloomy swamplands and approached a metallic bridge that had the words “Saint Denis” standing above it, keeping our heads down as we crossed into civilized land.

Even though it was still rather early in the morning, there were already a number of stagecoaches going in and out of the city, carrying passengers that were gussied up in clothes more valuable than my entire coin purse. I guessed Dutch was right about them rich folk gallivanting ‘round the place. Couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. 

Sure, there was probably loads of money in it for us, but when it came to robbin’ people like the ones in Saint Denis, we usually had to “get to know ‘em” first. And that was an even bigger pain in the ass. I just hoped we wouldn’t be here long.

“Well!” Dutch announced, spreading his arms out as we came to a stop, “here we are, gentlemen. Saint Denis. A city where the people are almost as bad as the smell, and their bellies are fuller than their pockets.”

I chuckled in a sarcastic tone. “This their idea of civilization? It looks like torture. And that’s comin’ from someone who’s seen Micah drunk.”

Dutch reached over and patted my back, grinning. “Optimism, Arthur. With civilization comes rules. And with rules, comes the illusion of safety. These people will let their guard down faster than you can draw a gun, especially with all the lawmen here to protect them. After all...” he gave me a friendly wink, “...what kinda fool would raise hell with so many cops around?”

Hosea jumped into the conversation, throwing his own two cents in. “We should split up; travel alone. Three strangers on the hunt will raise too much suspicion. It’ll be far easier to move around if we’re by ourselves. Plus, we’ll cover more ground that way.”

Dutch nodded in agreement. “Alright. I’ll go look into that theater. The Râleur, I believe it’s called. Hosea, why don’t you check out the bank? City like this is bound to have piles of cash sittin’ in it. Arthur, you sniff around that saloon, the Bastille. I’m sure there are plenty of wealthy, drunk bastards you could swipe some money from. Or at least lead you in the right direction.”

I quirked a brow. “Thought you wanted me to avoid saloons?”

He smirked. “If there’s any chance you’re gonna start a fight, I’d rather it be in a saloon than a bank.”

My expression stiffened with annoyance as I gently snapped my horse’s reins, trotting off ahead the two of them.

“Never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

Dutch laughed, waving a casual goodbye as I put some distance between us.

“The day I trust you to behave in a saloon is the day I’ll trust Bill to handle explosives again. Good luck, son. And watch your back.” His voice lowered with seriousness. “We ain’t the only thieves in this city...nor are we the worst.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE BASTILLE

Walking up to the deluxe saloon, I hitched my horse to a nearby post before hopping off, ignoring the curious looks I got from the strangers around me as I headed inside. I was well aware that I stuck out like Uncle in a church, and to be perfectly honest, I had no idea how to behave in front of people like this...but perhaps the drinks would take off some of the stress. 

True, it was a bit early to be gettin’ drunk already, but frankly I didn’t give a damn. After all the shit that the gang had been through -- especially in recent times -- I figured I deserved a drink.

Pushing my way through the swinging doors, I casually headed over to the bar as everyone planted their gazes onto me, temporarily pausing their conversations while I strolled by.

All around me, I could see nothing but posh men in suits and top hats playing poker, women suffocating in their tight, frilly gowns, cigarette smoke puffing through the air, and colored beams of light seeping through the stained-glass windows.

The only person here who actually seemed to be enjoying themselves -- or at least was pretending to -- was the bartender. He looked humble enough, and the minute I reached the bar, he was standing in front of me with a glass and rag in his hands, smiling sincerely at me.

“Hello there, sir,” he greeted. “You new in town? Ain’t see your face ‘round here before. What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a whiskey,” I answered tiredly, sliding a coin across the bar. “And yeah, you could say that. I’m mainly just...passin’ through, is all.”

The bartender glanced at the coin. “Oh, I’m gonna need a dollar for that.”

I blinked in confusion. “For a whiskey?”

“Oh, yes. This here’s the real thing. Worth every coin.”

I sighed, slipping some more money out of my satchel. “Fine. Here.”

“Thanks, mister.” He said, reaching under the bar before filling up a shot glass. “Anyway, back to what you was sayin’...I hope Saint Denis will be a pleasant enough stop for you along the way. Where you headed?”

I shrugged. “Well, if things go accordin’ to plan, I’m hoping to end up somewhere in the west soon.”

The bartender returned to cleaning his glass. “Be careful out there, mister. Real dangerous from what I’ve heard. A lotta gangs and bounty hunters raising hell -- and even more innocent folk gettin’ caught in the middle of it. I hope you know how to use a gun.”

I chuckled, downing the shot. “I know the basics.”

“That’s good. You’ll need to stay armed if you wanna travel safely through this country.” 

Interrupting our talk, a woman who was relaxing in a nearby chaise lounge suddenly blurted out a long series of nonsense as she wildly waved her cigarette holder around, disrupting the relative silence in the saloon.

“Can someone get me a bloody drink?! I’ve got a gala to plan for later and I don’t want to be late!” She let out an unimpressed groan. “Ugh...people just don’t understand punctuality these days. It’s pathetic, really. Back in my day, men knew how to treat a woman right. Now they’re all useless. But I suppose all good things can’t last forever.”

A gala? I repeated in my head. That was just a fancy word for “getting a bunch of rich folks together and getting them drunk.” Maybe Dutch and I could look into that. It was a good opportunity to not only snatch some money, but pry some secrets out of those at the top. I’d have to investigate.

“Who’s that?” I quietly asked the bartender, hoping not to get the woman’s attention.

He waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, don’t mind Lillian. That’s just how she is. Ms. Powell’s always in here makin’ some kind of ruckus. Oddly enough though, it don’t seem to bother anyone. But I guess the people in Saint Denis are pretty used to ignoring others by now, aren’t they?”

I snickered. “That they are. Well, it’s been a pleasure, but I...best be on my way. Got a busy day ahead.”

The bartender smiled. “Stay safe out there, sir. And please, stop by again if you’re ever feelin’ parched. Our doors are always open.”

I gave him a firm nod, promptly making my way out of the saloon. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Feeling strangely refreshed after that shot of whiskey, the world seemed to realign itself as I took my leave from the snobbish atmosphere of the saloon, only to slam directly into someone after strolling through the doors.

Papers instantly went soaring all over the place, scattering onto the street beneath us and flying through the air as I tried to process what the hell just happened, glancing around frantically like a lost child.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir!” A voice suddenly apologized, causing me to jolt my head in their direction.

There was a young man sitting on the pavement not too far away from me, his overcoat now stained with dirt and mud as he hastily tried to gather his notes, too embarrassed to look at me.

The young man appeared to be around his late twenties and had the look of a gentleman. He was clean-shaven, unlike pretty much every other man I knew, and his black hair had been neatly parted, revealing the entirety of his slim but structured face. He made me look homeless.

On top of all that though, there was also a mixture of passion and curiosity in his green eyes, and the longer he gazed at me, the more I felt like he was opening me up. As if...he could read me like a book.

“...Nah, it ain’t your fault,” I replied, bending down to help him. “I’m...I’m a clumsy fool. Didn’t see you comin’ towards me.”

Taking a clump of the papers in hand, I mindlessly paused for a moment when I noticed this man’s notes were nothing like mine. Instead of a paragraph of words like I expected, these papers had...what looked like music notes scribbled on them, along with some personal messages squished in the margins. Who the hell did I just bump into? Not only was he taking notes in gibberish, he also had a strange accent.

“...I-I’m...a musician,” the young man explained meekly, noticing my puzzled expression. “A pianist.”

I handed the papers back to him, pretending not to be confused. 

“Was it your turn to play at the saloon?”

“Oh, no,” he corrected, rising to his feet. “I don’t perform in saloons. I perform at the Râleur Theater not too far away from here. Have you been?”

I loosely shook my head. “Ain’t seen it or been in it, but I’ve heard of it.”

“You should stop by sometime,” he suggested, his embarrassment now replaced by enthusiasm. “The shows there are marvelous. We have men and women from all over the world who can breathe fire, bend metal with their bare hands, and escape death itself! It’s truly something to witness.”

I didn’t believe a word of it, but played along anyway.

“Is that so? And what d’you do?”

The young man flicked his eyes downwards sheepishly. “...I, err...play the piano. Music can make all the difference, you know. In fact -- I hate to ask, but could you do me a small favor?”

I decided to hear him out. “Depends on the favor.”

He gestured to his notes. “Well, I’m composing a new song, you see. Though, I’m not really sure if it’s exactly what I’m going for. I think I need a second pair of ears...as well as a second opinion.”

I went straight to the point. “...You want me to listen to your song.”

“Yes!” he confirmed. “I-It’ll only take a few minutes, but you’ll have to come to my house. That’s where my piano is.”

I took a moment to think about it, glancing at the city around us hesitantly before shrugging in acceptance.

“...Why not? I got some time to spare.”

The young man’s face glowed with gratitude. “Excellent! Thank you, sir.” He held out his hand. “My name’s Edward, by the way. Edward Ryan.”

I shook his hand, admittedly a bit awkward since I rarely ever introduced myself like this. Most of the time, my hand was near my holster when I met someone new.

“Arthur Morgan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Morgan.”

I laughed. “You might change your mind ‘bout that later.”

He scoffed and began to head down the sidewalk as I followed him, both of us strangely comfortable considering we had only met. 

“Nonsense,” Edward replied. “I know a good man when I see one.”

“Well then,” I said, “I’m guessin’ you ain’t seen many. Where you from, anyway? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

“I’m not. I traveled here from England after Aldridge Abbington found me. Do you know Mister Abbington?”

“Nope. I barely know anyone here, actually. Today’s my first time in Saint Denis.”

Edward chuckled. “Well, I apologize that I had to be the first impression.”

I held a hand up. “No, I’m the one who should be apologizing. Believe me.”

“The way you speak about yourself,” he pointed out, “I’d think you were also English if it weren’t for the accent.”

“Oh yeah? Think I’d fit in there?” I asked humorously. Edward grinned.

“Walk with me and I’ll tell you all about it.” The young man fell silent for a second. “You know...I must say: out of all the people I’ve met so far, you definitely stand out the most, Mister Morgan.”

A chortle escaped me. “And you know people who can breathe fire. I must be something.”

Edward smirked, beckoning me with nothing but a single glance as we carefully navigated our way through the busy city, talking to each other as if we had known each other for our whole lives. 

“Oh...I get the feeling you are.”


	3. Freedom

From Arthur’s POV

SAINT DENIS

Sticking close to the young musician, Edward led me through the bustling traffic and thick crowds of people as the city gradually became more and more awake, rising to its average amount of daily commotion along with the sun.

By now, there was horses and stagecoaches rollin’ around all over the place, as well as an alarming amount of lawmen patrolling in their stuffy, blue coats, keeping an eye out for the smallest hint of trouble and ready to act at a moment’s notice. Well, most of them were, at least.

As for Edward, the boy seemed to have no problems whatsoever snaking his way through Saint Denis, and to be honest, it felt like he was starin’ at his notes more often than he was at the streets. How this man hadn’t crashed into anyone else yet was beyond me.

I, on the other hand -- like the absent-minded brute I was -- found myself constantly swerving and and squeezing through people, doing my best not to stumble over my own two feet. At the moment, I looked like the town drunk tryin’ to remember how to walk.

“How do you live here?” I asked Edward, barely pulling the boy’s eyes away from his music sheets.

“What do you mean?” He questioned, evidently not picking up on my struggles at all.

“All these people...” I explained, “the confined spaces, the buildings stacked right next to each other, that god-awful smell...how do you live in a place like this and not go mad?”

Edward let out a chuckle. “Well, I was raised in the city. London, specifically. I suppose I’m just used to it. You’re not though, I take it.”

I straightened my shirt and picked up the pace a bit, catching up to the musician.

“You could say that.”

Pausing for a second, Edward cocked his head in interest and glanced at me. 

“Where are you from, actually? This whole time I’ve been talking about myself, but...I’d love to hear more about you, Mister Morgan.”

Being the master of speech that I was, I decided to deflect the question with my horrible sense of humor.

“I’m afraid if I told you anythin’ about myself...” I winked, “...I’d have to kill you.”

The pianist laughed joyously. “Well, now you’ve only intrigued me more. Please...enlighten me. What are these deep, dark secrets that you’re keeping?”

I shifted to a more serious tone, gazing at Edward with a dubious expression. “...You really wanna know ‘bout me?”

He smirked, his eyes twinkling with fascination. 

“Of course. A new cowboy shows up in town, waltzes right into the most opulent saloon in the city -- despite the unwritten rule that the Bastille is only for the rich -- and now he tells me he’d have to kill me if I learnt anything about him. Mister Morgan, I’ve spent my whole life writing stories without words...and your actions alone are enough to tell me that you’re probably the most interesting man I’ve ever had the fortune to come across. What kind of fool wouldn’t wish to know more about you?”

Admittedly a bit overwhelmed by everything he just said, I chuckled softly at that and shrugged, finally giving in at last. 

“Well, that’s certainly one way to put it. Alright, then...what you wanna know?”

Edward thought for a minute. “...What do you do for a living?”

I quickly came up with something.

“I’m...sort of a wanderer, I guess. I pick up jobs along the way, travel where I can, hunt down the occasional bounty. It ain’t exactly stable, but it works for me.”

That only appeared to reel the boy in more.

“Is that so?” He asked, his smile bright with attentiveness. “Sounds like you’ve lived quite the adventurous life. What brought you to Saint Denis?”

“Well, like I said, I’m not really used to big cities. Figured I’d come here and see what kinda opportunities this place had to offer. See if there’s...anything here for me.”

Edward nodded in response. “Oh, there are plenty of opportunities, I assure you. But...we can discuss more of this later. My house is right over here. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

~~~~~~~~~~

RYAN RESIDENCE

Breaking free from the clogged streets, Edward and I escaped the mayhem downtown and approached this decently-sized house that was located just on the edge of the city. 

The area around here was a lot quieter than where I first started out, and the amount of tall, lush trees surrounding Edward’s home added a sense of solace to the atmosphere. 

All I could hear right now was the fluttering sound of birds chirping, the soft chatter of the few people strolling around, and the ring of the tram’s bell chiming lightly in the distance.

It was...actually kinda beautiful. Not that I knew too much about that word.

Slowly walking up to the house alongside Edward, I felt the wind begin to pick up slightly as it glided through the trees’ leaves, causing them to rustle gently and make the sunlight warp around their swaying branches.

It felt like I wasn’t even in Saint Denis no more. Just felt like...this house was a sanctuary. From the rest of the world.

But maybe that was what a home was supposed to be. Not like the home I lived in. If I even really had one.

“Here we are,” Edward announced, interrupting my thoughts. “Come on in! Make yourself comfortable.”

Digging for the key in his pockets, the musician promptly unlocked the front door and invited me inside, the two of us shuffling into the foyer.

The furniture weren’t exactly what you’d call fancy, or luxurious -- thank God --but it was definitely ornamental enough to add a layer of splendor to the house.

I whistled in an impressed manner.

“So this is the house being a musician gets you?”

Edward chuckled. “Being a skilled one, yes.”

I laughed back. “Fair enough. Where’s this piano of yours?”

“Upstairs,” he replied, slipping off his overcoat. “I’ve got an entire room for it. Follow me, I’ll show you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Following Edward once more, I climbed the stairs behind him and headed all the way down a short corridor, stopping in front of a double-door that was placed right next to a tall window. 

From here, I could see the house’s front porch as well as a single stagecoach passing by on the street next to it. Other than that though, there weren’t much else I could see. The rest of the view was blocked by the trees’ leaves...almost like some kinda natural curtain.

“It’s in here,” Edward said, pushing the doors open. “Thank you again, Mister Morgan, for taking the time to help me out. I confess, I’m actually somewhat surprised you agreed. There aren’t many people in this city who are as kind as you.”

I joined him inside. 

“Well, I’d hardly say I’m kind, but...sure thing. So, what you need me to do?”

“Just have a seat over there,” Edward gestured to a nearby chair, “and...listen. That’s it, really. I’d just like to hear your opinion on the song.”

I walked over and lowered myself into the seat, removing my hat for a moment before placing it in my lap. 

“Alright. Sounds simple enough. Whenever you’re ready.”

Edward gave me a warm smile and strode over to the piano, organizing his sheets on the little stand it had -- I didn’t know the name for it -- before sitting down and positioning his hands over the keys. 

It was a beautiful instrument. A lot prettier than the pianos I usually saw in saloons, at least. This one was significantly bigger than them, and had a sleek coat of black paint along with some designs carved into it. How the hell he moved this thing upstairs was something I’d never figure out, and I wondered if it sounded any better. Guess I’d find out soon.

Taking a deep breath, Edward readied himself and glanced at me with those big, green eyes of his before flipping to the first page of his notes, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

“...Ready?” He asked me. I gave him a thumbs up. 

“Okay then. Here goes nothing.”

Softly pressing down on the first key, Edward finally began playing the song as his fingers danced across the piano, emitting a melody unlike anything I’d ever heard. 

Based on the music I’d heard in the past, I expected his song to be more...upbeat. Somethin’ that would make you wanna dance, or something you’d listen to while having a drink with friends.

But Edward’s music...it travelled like a story. 

The beginning was gentle and calm. It had a tone of melancholy to it and was composed of only a few, slow notes, but enough to create a feelin’ of...well, I wasn’t quite sure, actually. 

As the song carried on though, more and more notes gradually started to join in, making the tune less...“lonely,” causing Edward’s hands to glide from one end to another. 

I had no idea how his fingers was moving so fast, or how he was able to keep up with all these notes -- and sometimes it didn’t even look like he was touching the piano -- but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Nor could I suppress the smile that crept onto my face.

For some reason, watching Edward play the piano made me feel at peace. The boy looked like he was in his own, little world at the moment, and the more he got into the song, the more he seemed to lose himself in the music.

It...kinda reminded me of myself when I drew. 

Dutch always said I looked like an entirely different person when my nose was buried in my journal. Said that I looked...happy. Like the weight of the world had been removed from my shoulders for just a minute. And...I supposed he was right. 

It also explained why I never showed anyone my drawings. Or why Sadie only played her harmonica by herself. Or why Edward had this entire room dedicated to a single piano.

I guessed we kept these things hidden...‘cause they were the only things not damaged by the world yet. Sorta like an escape. A temporary way out -- because we knew there was no way outta reality. 

But...I was probably just talkin’ silly. It weren’t uncommon for me to have pointless thoughts like this, and that was why I carried a journal in the first place.

I mean, I had enough bullshit comin’ out my mouth. I had to have someplace to write the rest down.

Breaking out of my thoughts though, I suddenly realized that it had fallen silent in the room and, upon returning to the real world, I found Edward gazing at me with a curious glint in his eyes, waiting for a reaction.

“So...?” He asked. “What did you think?”

I let out a breath, completely at a loss for words.

“I...don’t know too much ‘bout music, but that was real nice, Edward. I ain’t never heard anything like it. Really.”

The musician’s face lit up with appreciation. “How did it make you feel? Did you think of anything whilst listening to it? Or...someone, perhaps?”

My gaze dropped to the floor. “I dunno. I guess it...made me feel...free?”

That piqued his interest. “Free? Freedom from what?”

I woulda been lying if I said I knew exactly what I was talking about. After all, I didn’t have much of a way with words, and I couldn’t quite figure out how to answer what Edward was asking me.

“Freedom from...my life,” I settled for. “From all the shi-- err, problems, I gotta deal with. It’s just, there’s been a lot happenin’ with the people around me recently -- most of it bad -- and this made me feel like all of that was just...gone. Like I didn’t have to worry no more.”

Edward appeared satisfied by the answer. “I see.”

The pianist was quiet for a minute, pondering everything I just told him as his brows furrowed in concentration.

“...Mister Morgan,” he said after a while of thinking, “can I tell you something?”

I raised a brow, admittedly curious. “What is it?”

He turned to face me. “You’re not the first to hear this song. I’ve actually already performed it for a number of my...colleagues, I guess you could call them.”

I paused. “Then why did you need my opinion? Why not just go off what they said?”

“Because...” Edward pulled the piano’s lid down, “when I composed this melody, my main goal with it was to bring out a person’s deepest desires. I may have shown it to multiple people, but I’ve gotten a different answer each time.”

He removed the notes from the stand, stacking them in a neat pile on a nearby end table.

“One woman told me it reminded her of her late husband,” the pianist continued. “Said it made her wish she could see him again, and it nearly brought her to tears. Then, there was another man who said it made him think of his daughter, who he unfortunately lost not too long ago. It happened in a fire. And now...there’s you. Saying it makes you think of freedom.”

Edward leaned forward and gazed directly into my eyes in a heartfelt manner, entirely devoid of the awkwardness he displayed when we first met. 

“...Is that what you want, Arthur?” He asked profoundly. “Are you searching for freedom?”

I was quiet for a moment, almost a bit...frightened by how easily Edward was able to read me. I had only known this man for a single morning, and yet, he already appeared to know me better than half the gang. 

Ironically though, I didn’t know a damn thing about him. At first glance, I assumed Edward was just some other lost soul trapped in Saint Denis, but the more we talked and the more comfortable he grew around me, the more I realized I had barely scratched the surface with this boy.

Noticing my hesitance, Edward suddenly switched back to the timid, disheveled man I ran into outside the Bastille and looked away for a moment, bringing his hands together.

“I...I apologize, Mister Morgan. I know we’ve only just met, and I’m well aware I can be rather forward at times. I didn’t mean to cause any discomfort, and I--”

“--Yes,” I answered, causing him to come to a halt. The man’s head perked up in confusion.

“Hmm?” 

I gestured to the piano. “You asked me if I was lookin’ for freedom. Well, I am. Every, damn, day of my life. It’s...it’s all I’ve ever wanted. But, pfft, I sure as hell ain’t found it yet.”

That calmed Edward down a bit, and his shoulders slouched with relief.

“Ah...I see. Well, I wish you good luck on your journey to freedom. Though, I wouldn’t say Saint Denis is the place to find it. In fact,” he slid a hand along the piano’s edge, “I couldn’t really tell you where is. I have yet to find it for myself either.”

I placed my hat back on and chuckled quietly, standing up from my chair. “Well, if I ever do find it, I promise I’ll share some with you.”

Edward beamed at me. “Hopefully, the next time we meet, we will both be free men. Anyways...” he rose from the bench, seeing me out as we exited the room. “Thank you for coming here today, Mister Morgan. I really appreciate it, and I’m sorry for interrupting you day like this.”

I shook my head. “Heh, don’t be. Truth be told, it was nice takin’ a quick break from the world outside.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he agreed. “Reality never wastes any time in waking us up, it seems. The best we can do...is dream while we have the chance.”

I began to descend the staircase, slowing down to a stop once I reached the front door.

“...I like that,” I said, earning an affable look from Edward . “Well, it has been a pleasure, Mister Ryan, but I’m afraid you’re a bit too smart for me.”

The pianist laughed. “Put me in your shoes for a day and you might change your mind about that.”

I opened the front door. “If you’re lucky, it’ll never come to that. Good day, Edward. I hope everythin’ goes well for you at the theater.”

His eyes widened with remembrance. “Oh, that reminds me! I have a show in two days at the Râleur. Please, if you have time, feel free to stop by. I’d love to see you there.”

I nodded in consideration. “...I might very well do that.”

Edward followed me outside. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Stay safe out there, Mister Morgan. These are chaotic times we’re living in.”

“Same goes to you,” I replied, stepping down the front porch while the pianist stayed behind. “Farewell.”

Before taking my leave, I abruptly stopped in my tracks, turning around to say one last thing.

“Oh...and I ain’t a cowboy.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A COUPLE HOURS LATER

AFTERNOON

“Reality never wastes any time in waking us up, it seems...” I scribbled down in my journal, “...The best we can do is dream while we have the chance.”

Finally completing my newest entry, I set the pencil down in between the pages and looked over Edward’s quick portrait, analyzing all of his features as if he were standin’ right in front of me.

That boy had a personality unlike anyone else I’d ever met, and he clearly saw the world through a completely different lens than me. It was like...he understood the troubles of the world we lived in, but only saw them as an opportunity to perfect his dreams. He found a certain...beauty...in pain that I had yet to discover myself. 

All the things he said, all the secrets he was able to pull outta me...it just made wonder what kinda life Edward really lived. What he had been through. 

Well, I supposed those weren’t things for me to learn. A man like Edward was far too good for a man like me, and I knew better than anyone that secrets were kept for a reason. Not all of ‘em were hidden away ‘cause they’d hurt somebody. But...maybe ‘cause they had hurt the person themselves before. 

Trying to take my mind off Edward, I shut the journal and shoved it back into my satchel, stretching my arms out as I was immediately greeted by a familiar, gruff voice.

“There you are, big man!” Dutch exclaimed happily, strolling towards me. “Where you been, son? Learn anything useful?”

I smirked. “Maybe. Heard about a gala in the saloon that’s supposedly gonna have a bunch of rich, drunk folks attending it. A woman named Lillian Powell’s involved in it.”

Dutch was already hooked. “Sounds like something we can work with. Keep lookin’ into that. Meanwhile, I’ve got an idea about the Râleur, but I think we should find Hosea first. I want both of you to hear this.”

“Sounds good.”

He patted me on the back, swinging an arm around me as we walked together. “Good work, Arthur. Keep on like this, and soon, our pockets will be bursting with money. Just remember: we have to keep a low profile. There’s a lotta lawmen in this city, and the last thing we wanna do is bring their attention to us.”

“I hear you.”

Dutch grinned mischievously, his gaze twinkling with larceny. 

“...Then let’s get to work.”


	4. A Snake In The Grass

From Arthur’s POV

OUTSIDE LEMOYNE NATIONAL BANK

Pacing to the other end of town, Dutch and I slithered our way through the groups of lawmen patrolling around Saint Denis as we hurried to find Hosea at the bank, keeping a low profile and eager to get back to camp.

At this point, the city was entirely awake, and all around us, we could see both men and women calling out to passersby as they advertised their merchandise, campaigns, charities, and more. It was quite the sight. Sure weren’t like anythin’ I’d ever seen.

We had already come across some rich fool by the side of the road who was hollerin’ at people to buy his book that would apparently lead folks to instant success, as well as some waste of space claimin’ that the white race was the only “correct” one, and that the blacks and Indians were nothing but animals. It was science, he said. 

Well, last time I checked, “science” was the same thing trying to turn cannons and bicycles with balloons into forms of transportation. So that didn’t exactly count for much in my book.

On a more pleasant note though, I did also see a woman standing outside City Hall advocating for women’s right to vote. It wasn’t something I could see happening anytime soon, and her ideas of a female president within the next ten years seemed a bit far off, but there weren’t no shame in searching for a better world. I only hoped she had some sort of protection out there in the open. Not everyone was taking her proposals kindly.

As for Dutch -- well, ever since the man found me about an hour ago, he had been chewing my ear off about his plan to pick Saint Denis clean of its money before packin’ our bags and heading off to Tahiti or some place. 

I wasn’t quite sure how that would work exactly, and if I was being perfectly honest, the west sounded like a much better area to lie low, but...I wasn’t really thinkin’ about any of that anyway.

The only thing on my mind at the moment...was Edward.

I couldn’t get that melody he played out of my head, and the man himself wasn’t easy to forget either. 

I didn’t know why, but somethin’ about that boy just stuck with me. His words, his personality, his music...it preoccupied me completely. It almost felt like I was still sittin’ there by his piano.

Despite my pleasant thoughts about him though, I couldn’t deny I was a bit concerned about Dutch’s plans to rob the theater. I mean, I knew there was probably hundreds of dollars sittin’ in there and Edward and I were barely acquaintances, but it still seemed...I dunno, wrong to go behind his back like that. Especially right after doing a favor for him.

But I supposed that was the life of an outlaw. I could never truly befriend honest folk, or get along with them. I could only lie to ‘em.

“Hosea, old man!” Dutch called out suddenly, bringing my attention back to reality.

Hosea was sitting on a bench not too far away from the bank with a newspaper in his hands -- more as a mask than actual reading material -- and waved at us as we approached him, keeping our voices low.

“Ah, Dutch, Arthur,” he greeted, folding the newspaper. “There you are. How did you fellas get along?”

Dutch leaned against a nearby street lamp and crossed his arms. “Arthur here thinks he might be onto somethin’ about an upcoming gala. Heard some woman in the Bastille rambling on about it...and I’ve got a few ideas of my own on that theater as well. What about you? How’s the bank looking?”

Hosea rose to his feet. “Pretty much what you’d expect. Lots of money, and even more security to protect it. It also happens to be in the middle of the city. So if we’re gonna hit it, Dutch, we’ll need every gun we have. But if we can pull it off right, I guarantee it’ll be worth it. The vault’s got thousands of bucks just waitin’ in it. Enough to get us out of here.”

The other man nodded in contemplation. “Alright, then. Well, let’s head back to camp...and I’ll tell you all about this theater once we get there. I really think this could be quite the opportunity for us, but we don’t have too long to plan for it, so we need to move fast. C’mon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

SHADY BELLE

DUTCH’S OFFICE

“Okay, gentlemen,” Dutch said eagerly, gathering us outside his room. “I have a plan. And this is a good one.”

Hosea and I exchanged looks, feeling both a little nervous and excited at the same time as we took a seat on the ornate couch.

“Well, what’ve you got in mind?” Hosea asked.

Dutch grinned, holding a finger up. “I did some investigating, and apparently there’s gonna be a show at the Râleur in two days. Lots of tourists are gonna come pilin’ in, and all the money will be sitting right at the front door while everyone else inside is distracted by the show. It’s the perfect time for us to slip in and swipe the cash. Which means the best way for us to do this is by makin’ as little noise as possible...”

He glanced at me. “...Arthur.”

I sighed in annoyance. “...Jesus, I get it.”

Dutch let out a hearty laugh. “That is the last time I’ll mention it. I promise. Anyway, I’m thinkin’ we bring in a small group. Go in quick and quiet. We don’t wanna barge into the theater, armed to the teeth. Remember, the goal here is to cause as little alarm as we can. We’ll probably disguise some of you as employees, too -- that way, you can keep watch while the others focus on the robbing.”

Hosea nodded. “And who’s doing what?”

“Hmm. Well, we don’t want anyone too tough looking to dress as the employees,” Dutch explained. “I think I’ll get Kieran to be one of them. You too, Hosea.”

“What ‘bout me?” I questioned.

“You...are gonna be doing the robbing. My plan is for you and Mary-Beth to enter the theater together. Pretend you’re a couple out to see a show. But don’t walk up to the ticket booth until it’s empty. That way, no one will be around to see what you’re really doing.”

I raised a brow. “Me and Mary-Beth?”

Hosea chuckled. “That poor girl has her eyes on you, Arthur. Everyone in camp can see that. Least it’ll make this job easier for her.”

I shrugged. “So, what, we just walk up to the ticket booth and take the money while everyone’s watchin’ the show?”

“That’s the idea for now,” Dutch confirmed. “But I’m still working out the details. In the meantime: Hosea, you keep focusing on that bank. And Arthur, see what else you can learn about the gala -- where it’s located, how we get in...things like that.”

“On it.” 

The man smirked. “Good. Saint Denis will be our ticket outta this country, boys. I can feel it. We just need one, last score...and we’re gone for good. But it won’t help anything if you lose your faith. So stay with me. Both of you. The gang may be strong, but we’re nothing if we don’t work together.”

Hosea and I gave Dutch a firm, honest look.

“We ain’t goin’ nowhere, Dutch,” I said. “We got your back.”

Dutch began making his way out of the room, glancing at us over his shoulder before he headed out the door.

“I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW HOURS LATER

THAT NIGHT

Sitting on my bed, I mindlessly doodled in my journal while the rest of the gang chatted at the campfire outside, sketching the night away as I waited for another long day of work tomorrow.

Normally I drew things like horses, plants, landscapes...just stuff I came across while wandering around. But today, I found myself scratching down wobbly images of pianos, random music notes, and of course...Edward. 

By now, it was honestly frustratin’ me that I couldn’t tear my mind away from him. Why the hell was I so captivated by that man? I mean, I had met much more prominent people in the past.

I had seen people who were retired gunslingers, civil war veterans, slave catchers, dinosaur bone hunters -- hell, I’d even come across a couple who were brother and sister. 

Why was one pianist so interesting to me? Ain’t like he was the first musician I’d ever met.

I guessed...I guessed it was because he was so different from everyone else.

Most people I talked to always hid behind some kind of pretense. Acted polite and well-mannered on the outside, and danced around saying what they was really thinking...but Edward, he already seemed to know me better than I even knew myself. Within just a few minutes of talking with the boy, he had already come to the conclusion that I was a better man than I thought. 

And based on what? Ramming into him? Makin’ a mess of his notes? Covering his clothes in mud?

Mister Ryan definitely had a unique idea of “good,” that was certain. I just hoped I could live up to it.

“Um, Arthur?”

Flicking my eyes upward at the sudden intrusion, I paused mid-action when I realized Mary-Beth was standing just outside the doorway, her head poking inside with a puzzled expression as she stared at me. I put my journal down.

“Oh, Mary-Beth. Did you...need something?”

The woman walked into the room. “No. I was just...walkin’ by when I overheard you singing. I was curious, is all. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I froze in confusion. “Singing? What you mean?”

She giggled. “You were humming, Arthur. You didn’t notice? I guess that’s good. When you hum, it means you’re in a good mood.”

I bashfully looked away from the young woman instantly, admittedly a tad embarrassed. 

When did I even start humming? Who else had heard me, if anyone? Christ, I hoped Uncle wasn’t sleepin’ on the floor downstairs again. Otherwise I’d never hear the end of this. That, and his goddamned lumbago.

“I, ah...” my voice faltered sheepishly, “...I didn’t notice. Sorry to disturb you.”

Mary-Beth waved a dismissive hand. “You weren’t disturbin’ me, you silly man. It was a pretty tune. Where’d you hear it?”

I pretended it was nothing. “Ah, just some song I must’ve heard somewhere or the other.”

She smiled in a way that said she knew I was lying, but dropped the subject anyway.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re feelin’ alright. This gang needs you to stay strong, Arthur. Dutch needs you. More than you may think.”

I stood up from the bed, placing my journal on the nightstand.

“Oh, I’m sure Dutch would manage just fine without me, but...that’s kind of you, Mary-Beth.”

She began to take her leave. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Stay safe out there, Arthur. Things is gettin’ pretty crazy -- both inside and outside of camp -- so be careful, okay?”

I escorted Mary-Beth out into the corridor, saying a quick goodbye to her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman slid a hand along the staircase’s railing, looking up at me before stepping down.

“Good. I know our situation’s been tough recently, and I can’t deny that I’m scared too...but I know you and Dutch will pull us through. You always do.”

I nodded confidently. “And we will again.”

Mary-Beth descended the stairs, leaving me alone in the hallway.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” she was quiet for a second. “Good night, Arthur. These moments of peace that bore us now, are what we’re gonna be wishin’ for in a bit. Take care of yourself. We ain’t losin’ anybody else.”

I waved her goodbye. 

“...No. We ain’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE NEXT MORNING

Waking up to the sound of Karen and Grimshaw yelling -- again -- I fluttered my eyes open to a slit, only to be blinded by a strong beam of sunlight that was seeping through the broken window.

I was facedown in my pillow, and judging by the brazen snoring I heard comin’ from downstairs, I weren’t the only one still dreaming. Despite wanting to sleep more though, I decided to head out for Saint Denis now, while the streets were still quiet.

The sun had barely warmed up the sky yet, but all this arguing and fretting at camp right now was makin’ me want to be just about anywhere else. I understood that folks were afraid, and I woulda been lyin’ if I said I wasn’t -- but there was only so much worrying one man could take.

Retrieving my hat, I strapped my belt on and threw my satchel over my shoulder, making sure everything was in place and stretching a bit before striding out of the room.

Fortunately, there weren’t really anyone awake yet to distract me or hold me back from leaving, and the weather seemed clear enough today. 

The clouds were thin and the morning sun was just beginning to float above the purple horizon, painting the world around us with a nice, red tint.

It was the perfect time to ride out.

~~~~~~~~~~

SAINT DENIS

Urging my horse to slow down, I began trotting into the city ahead of me as I was forced to adjust to civilized life, keeping a mental note that it actually mattered what the hell you was wearin’ out here. 

Usually, I just wore a simple, loose shirt and a roughed-up pair of pants, but for the sake of blending in, I had stuffed myself into some itchy vest this morning along with a nicer set of trousers I didn’t even remember purchasing. 

For a minute I felt like a walking joke on display for everyone to laugh at, but then I remembered the people around me looked even weirder. Women with gowns wider than the streets, and men with hats that made them an entire foot taller...big cities were definitely not the place for me. I didn’t mind the money, though.

Steadily trotting through the roads, I glanced to my side when I noticed the Râleur coming up on the left, the brightly-lit building immediately catching my attention. 

It was indeed quite a view, just like Edward said. Through the tall, glass doors, I could see a luxurious chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, giving the lobby an intense, golden glow as its light reflected off the decorated walls and waxed floors. And browsing through the posters plastered outside the theater, it looked like he weren’t kidding about those fire-breathing people.

Apparently, they had some lady from Bavaria who was stronger than a bull, a duo consisting of a tiny magician and child giant, a man called Benjamin Lazarus who could escape death, and a group of dancers from France who...oh, my.

Well, I didn’t know if it was really my kind of entertainment, but I was definitely considering seeing that show with Edward in it. If the song he performed for me was anythin’ to go by, then his show would be something to remember. I just wished I had the time to stop by.

“Well, hello there, Mister ‘Not a Cowboy!”

Whipping around towards the sound of the voice, I felt a smile sneak its way onto my face when I saw none other than the pianist himself strolling up to me as if on queue...alongside another man whom I hadn’t met yet. I hopped off my mount.

“I see my terrible sarcasm rubs off on people fast,” I greeted Edward with a chuckle, closing the distance between us. “How you doing, Mister Ryan?”

The musician scoffed. “I’m from England, mate. If anything, it was my sarcasm that rubbed off on you. But...I’m doing as well as one can in this city. And what about you, Mister Morgan? I hope Saint Denis is treating you okay.”

I shrugged. “I’m about the same as the last time you saw me.”

Edward seemed pleased. “That’s good to hear.” He turned to the man beside him.

“Err, Mister Middleton, this is the man I told you about earlier. He’s a traveler I ran into yesterday. Quite literally, actually. He’s the one who helped me out with my new composition.”

I brought my focus to Middleton, admittedly feeling somewhat out of place compared to their suits and ties.

“Arthur Morgan.” I introduced casually. The man gave me a stern glare. 

I couldn’t quite pinpoint it just yet, considering I’d only met him, but something about Edward’s companion just...put me off. 

Not only did he have a permanently sour expression hiding behind his groomed mustache, there was also a certain...glint in his dead, gray eyes that reminded me of Strauss. And everyone knew how I felt about that creep. Only difference was, this man actually looked like he was capable of giving out a beating himself.

The man held out a stiff hand.

“...Thatcher Middleton,” he replied bluntly. He had the same accent as Edward. “Pleasure to meet you.”

I reluctantly grabbed his hand, gesturing to the hardened frown on his face. “Try not to smile too hard there, partner. You, uh...another pianist?”

He shook his head, completely ignoring my remark. “No. I have nothing to do with that business. I’m merely a...” there was an odd pause, “...friend of Mister Ryan’s.”

I glanced side to side, not quite sure what to make of that. 

“...I see.”

Picking up on the tension between us, Edward quickly jumped in, changing the subject. 

“I noticed you were checking out the theater, Mister Morgan. Are you thinking about watching one of the shows?”

I gladly took my attention off Middleton, shifting my feet awkwardly. “I am, actually. I was considerin’ that show you mentioned to me. The one tomorrow?”

The pianist’s face radiated with excitement. “Oh, yes. Well, like I said, I’d love to see you there. I won’t be the only act tomorrow night, but it will be the first time I’m performing on my own. I confess I’m a tad nervous.”

I chuckled. “I ain’t heard much of your work, but if that song you showed me is anythin’ like your others...you’ll be fine.”

Edward didn’t appear any less anxious, but hid it nonetheless. “Thank you. You’re too kind, Mister Morgan.”

I laughed at that. “If you say so.”

Flattening this friendly moment with his grumpy tone, Middleton spoke up once more as he threw an almost threatening gaze in Edward’s direction, his eyes piercing through the shadow cast by his bowler hat.

“Well, I can see you’re busy, Edward. We’ll discuss this more later. In the meantime, I’ll be returning to my house if you need me. I have many matters to attend to.” Middleton barely looked at me, briefly bowing his head as a goodbye. “...Mister Morgan.”

I returned the dull farewell. “Middleton.”

Skulking off into the busy city, the man vanished like a phantom in the thick crowds as Edward and I watched him leave, both of us feeling somewhat unnerved after that chat.

“Charmin’ feller, ain’t he?” I muttered.

Edward crossed his arms. “He wouldn’t know charm if it died in his bed. Though, I suppose it already has.”

I smirked at the pianist. “I take it you weren’t waltzin’ around with him by choice?”

He sighed. “Oh, definitely not. You’ve no idea how grateful I am that I found you. In fact, I’d much rather waltz with you, Mister Morgan.” Edward stuttered after that, as if realizing what he just said. “Erm, i-if that’s alright, of course. Want to grab a drink? We did meet at a saloon, after all.”

I shrugged in a “why not” manner.

“Sure,” I agreed. “Oh, and call me Arthur, would you?”

Edward appeared much more relieved now. “And you can call me Edward. Or Eddie, if you prefer. People call me both.”

I beamed at him, the two of us strolling side-by-side as we diverted our path to the Bastille.

“Eddie it is,” I replied. “Y’know, I think you’re the most sensible Englishman I’ve met so far.”

“You’ve met others, have you?”

I adjusted my hat. “Well, aside from you and Middleton, I’ve only met one out here. And his name was Margaret.”

A brief laugh escaped Eddie. “You sound like you’ve had your fair share of adventures. Perhaps it’s your turn to entertain me with story today.”

We hugged a corner, turning onto a new street.

“Ah, I dunno ‘bout that. I ain’t...I ain’t so good with words.”

Eddie persisted. “You don’t need words to tell a story, Arthur. Words...are overrated. In the end, your actions are what speak for you.”

I grinned at him, the two of us stopping at the edge of a sidewalk as we waited to cross. 

“You, sir, possess a wisdom that I have yet to find.”

Eddie remained unconvinced that I was as dumb as I made myself out to be and simply rolled his eyes, beckoning me as we spoke with each other like a pair of old friends. 

For some reason, whenever I was around Eddie, I felt like I didn’t have to hide nothing. The boy seemed to be drawn to me no matter how much I talked down about myself, and every time we crossed paths, he acted as if we’d known each other for a lifetime already.

I...enjoyed the time I spent with him. 

I was only worried that this upcoming robbery would ruin our friendship. I mean, it was obvious how much this meant to Eddie, and lord knew how long he’d been preparing for this, but it was something I just had to go through with.

Then again, I guessed I always had the option to expose the plan, but...I could never do that. Not with the gang counting on me. Or Dutch. The old man was already paranoid we had a rat within the camp. The last thing I needed was to make him think it was me.

Well, I supposed all I could do was enjoy this relationship while it lasted. Eddie was too good of a man to be with me anyway. It was probably for the best if he kept his distant from an outlaw such as myself.

...Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter! If you'd like to see what Eddie looks like, I actually made a quick drawing of him. You can see it here :) https://hysterialevi.tumblr.com/post/180335600162/so-this-is-the-first-time-ive-posted-any-art-of


	5. A Man Like Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more moments between Arthur and Eddie in this chapter! Hope you enjoy :)

From Arthur’s POV

THE BASTILLE

Letting ourselves into the lazy saloon, Eddie and I made a beeline straight for the back as the same bartender greeted us, recognizing our faces while he cleaned the bar with a rag.

The saloon was still full of the same pretentious pricks from the last time I was here, and the further I made my way into the fancy building, the more their eyes seemed to be stuck on me and my sad attempt of putting together an outfit that was actually decent. 

Heh, still looked better than them, though.

“Welcome back, Eddie!” The bartender exclaimed. “And you too, mister. What’ll it be for you folks today?”

The pianist slid some money across the surface. “Two beers, please.”

“Comin’ right up.” He reached under the bar and popped two caps off with a soft hiss, placing a pair of bottles in front of us as we enjoyed our drinks.

“Say, Mister Ryan,” the man continued, “how’s your work at the theater going?”

Eddie took a sip. “It’s going well, thankfully. At the moment, I’m preparing for a show.”

“That’s good.” The bartender tugged his head towards the saloon’s piano. “Y’know, if you’re ever lookin’ for more work, our pianist’s thinking of quittin’ his job soon. He’s planning to move out somewhere in the country. Wants a more...‘laid-back’ lifestyle, he said.”

I let out a boisterous laugh at that. “Hah! Laid-back...”

Eddie considered the offer. “If I ever find the time to do it, I’d certainly love to play here. Lord knows I could use the money.”

The bartender smiled. “Excellent. Well, I’ll leave you boys to your drinks. Have a fine day now, y’hear?”

“Thanks, mister,” Eddie replied. “You too.”

Turning to face me now that the man was gone, the young musician took a breath and barely opened his mouth to say somethin’ before someone else was calling out his name, interrupting us for a second time. Jesus. And people wondered why I weren’t much of a social butterfly.

“Eddie Ryan?” A woman asked. “Mister Ryan, is that you, darling?”

Peeking behind the boy’s figure to see who was talking to him, I spotted none other than Lillian Powell herself sitting in the same place as before, comfortable as always while makin’ sure the rest of the saloon wasn’t.

“Oh, Miss Powell,” Eddie greeted, clearly not particularly pleased to see her. “Starting the day off with a drink, eh?”

She let out a puff of smoke from her mouth. “Indeed. Same as you, evidently.” Lillian moved her gaze to me, her eyes narrowing. “And I see you brought the cowboy with you.”

Eddie glanced at me. “Oh, him? He’s just a friend of mine. We met recently.”

“Is that so?” She said with an...almost jealous expression. “Are you planning on taking him to the gala later this week?”

The young man quirked a brow, turning to me. “I don’t know. What do you think, Arthur? Would you like to come with me?”

Well, finding a way into that gala was certainly easier than I anticipated. I gave Eddie a nod.

“...Sure,” I answered with a shrug. “Why not?” 

Lillian took a drag, huffing out another cloud. Though I couldn’t tell if the smoke comin’ out of her nose was due to the cigarette or annoyance.

“I suppose I’ll make an invitation for your friend, then. I look forward to seeing you there, Eddie. The gala will certainly be a night to remember with your piano-playing skills.”

The musician chuckled gently. “Thank you, Miss Powell. I look forward to attending.”

She smirked in a flirtatious manner. “You should, darling. It’s going to be quite the ball. There will be tons of people as well as music, drinks, and of course the chance of witnessing a drunken brawl. Mister Daniels and Robinson still aren’t over the fight they had at the last gala. I’m sure you remember that, yes?”

Eddie laughed at the memory. “How could I forget?”

Practically chugging the rest of his beer down in an attempt to escape the endless conversations, the pianist placed the empty bottle down and stood back from the bar, straightening his coat.

“Well, it was nice to see you again, Miss Powell,” he lied, “but I’m afraid I must get going. I’m on a...rather tight schedule today.”

“Oh, okay,” she said with a pout. “Take care of yourself, Eddie. Alright? Don’t stress yourself too much. I know how hard you work.”

Eddie sighed. “I wish I had the option. Anyways, good day, Lillian. I hope to bump into you at the gala. Until then, farewell.”

The boy brought his attention back to me with an expression on his face that screamed “help,” beckoning me out the saloon as I finished my own drink.

“Ready to go, Arthur?” He asked. I set down the bottle, walking next to him.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” he replied in a relieved tone. “Then let’s get going.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Shoving me out of the Bastille, Eddie and I took a huge breath of fresh air the minute we stepped outside, both of us glad to be away from the grandiose atmosphere of the saloon. And also to distance ourselves from that wretched woman.

“You are quite the popular feller, ain’t you?” I joked.

“Sadly, yes,” he said. “But in Saint Denis, fame brings you money. And right now, I need it. Still, it was kind of you to join me for a drink...even if it did last for about two seconds. Will you be heading off now?”

I whistled for my horse, watching the streets as my companion steadily trotted her way towards me.

“Yeah. As you know, I ain’t really much for big cities, and...I’ve got a few things I need to take care of.”

“Ah, I see,” Eddie responded, sounding a tad disappointed. “Well, it was fun running into you again, Arthur. Sometimes it feels like you’re the only man not wearing a mask in this city.”

Oh, if only he knew.

Giving my horse a welcoming pat on the neck, I mounted the majestic creature and secured my feet in the stirrups before taking hold of the reins, admittedly somewhat sad to leave Eddie behind as I reminded myself I had a job to do.

Then again...it was still rather early in the morning, and I had already completed my task of finding a way inside the gala, which was more luck than skill, to be honest...but maybe there wasn’t any need to part ways just yet. 

I glanced down at the lonely pianist, coming up with a last-minute idea.

“Y’know what, Eddie,” I proposed, “you’ve been showin’ me around Saint Denis these past couple o’ days. Why don’t I give you a peek of the world outside the city? Show you what else is out there.”

The boy looked up at me with a hint of hope in his big eyes. 

“...You’d do that?”

I shrugged in a relaxed manner. “Sure. Everyone needs to get out once in a while, and I’ve spent enough time here, I think. Why don’t you come with me? Explore the country for a bit? We won’t be gone for long. Just enough to catch our breaths.”

Eddie was obviously excited, but displayed some hesitance.

“...I-I’d...love to.” 

“Heh. Don’t be shy,” I reassured him, patting my horse. “She can be a little skittish ‘round strangers, but she’ll warm up to you soon enough. C’mon.” 

I reached a firm hand out, helping Eddie onto the mount as he tried to get used to the height.

“You good?” I checked.

“Yeah...” he answered, his voice soft with uncertainty. I didn’t think Eddie realized he had wrapped his arms around my waist. But I didn’t mind.

“Alright,” I tightened my grip on the reins, “I’d suggest you hold on, then. This girl can go fast. Hyah!”

~~~~~~~~~~

OUTSIDE SAINT DENIS

A WHILE LATER

Galloping as if there was no tomorrow, I bolted through the open fields hugging the city as Eddie held onto me for dear life, the force of the breeze ruffling his hair up a bit.

Out here, I felt so free. I didn’t have to endure the irritating chaos of Saint Denis’ coal-driven factories, greedy merchants, whistle-blowing lawmen, or the constant chatter of a thousand strangers.

Out here, it was just me...and Eddie. Ridin’ our way through endless miles of meadows and smooth hills as we glided towards the mountains towering in the distance. It made me feel so small -- so insignificant...and I loved every minute of it.

Snapping the reins out of excitement, I urged my horse to run faster as her heavy breath quickened and Eddie’s grasp strengthened around me, making me laugh on the inside. The boy certainly knew his way around the city -- I’d give him that -- but it looked like this was his first time ever settin’ foot into nature. 

Well, I guessed it was my turn to show him the ropes, for once.

Sprinting across a small stream, I began heading for one of my favorite spots in this area as droplets of cool water splashed onto us, giving me a much-needed sense of refreshment. There wasn’t a single person in sight, and the only company we had at the moment was the dozens of different species scrambling through the untouched land, including groups of rabbits that would always scramble underneath me every once in a while.

I had to admit...I was enjoying myself with Eddie. It wasn’t too often that I got to travel with a friend like this, and it was even more rare that I actually had a friend in the first place.

But spending time with Eddie...it made me feel at peace. I never experienced the same sort of tension with him as I did when speaking to others -- even Dutch -- and it was always so exhilarating to be around him. He passed no judgements. Made no assumptions. Cared nothin’ for where I came from, or who I was. All that mattered to him...was what I did.

Taking a sharp turn into the woods, I led Eddie through a thick grove of trees as spots of sunlight danced on the dirt road beneath us, and leaves rained from the canopy of branches above. There were all sorts of insects and birds flyin’ along with us, and the further I rode, the more Eddie’s arms relaxed around me. 

The boy no longer seemed tense or held back by fear. Instead, he looked just as content as I was and brought his gaze to the sky, unable to hide the blissful smile that shined on his face as he watched the deer prancing at our side.

I was...I was happy that I brought him out here. It had been so long since I had someone like this in my life, and I sure as hell didn’t expect to find another in Saint Denis.

At first glance, that city looked like nothing but a dreadful, cramped cesspit to me, and I remembered being annoyed at Dutch for makin’ me search through the place.

But after meeting a man such as Eddie, it only made me wonder what else Saint Denis was hiding beneath its surface. I always assumed it was the same as any other city, and had it pegged for a nest of corruption...but I guessed it weren’t all bad. Not if Eddie was there.

Finally reaching the spot I had been searching for, my horse suddenly slowed down to a halt once we found ourselves at a section of the Kansas River. We were surrounded by tall, beautiful trees, a seemingly never ending stretch of clear water, and the early sun hovered above us as its beams broke through the white clouds. To me, it was paradise.

“Here we are,” I announced, turning around to pat Eddie’s shoulder. “Ain’t it just the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen?”

The boy slowly gazed around in awe, his mouth dropping open with wonder as he took in the world around him. There was a look of inspiration in his emerald eyes, and the longer he stared at the view in front of him, the less he knew what to say.

“...Oh my...God...” he whispered. “I...I may never go back home.”

I chuckled lightly at his response, a little amazed myself at how gorgeous this place was. I had wasted so much time worrying and stressing and constantly thinking about the gang that...I forgot to just stop for a minute, and take a damn breath. It was...a nice change of pace.

“I come here a lot,” I explained. “It’s just...one of those places, y’know. Makes you feel separated from...the rest of the world. I like it here.”

Eddie agreed. “I can see why. I almost feel as if Saint Denis doesn’t even exist anymore. That city seems like it’s an eternity away now.”

Slipping my feet out of the stirrups, I turned around to face the pianist.

“Here,” I said, “lemme help you down.”

Preparing to hop off, my horse suddenly let out an alarmed neigh before I could do anything and began rearing wildly, causing both me and Eddie to tumble onto the ground as I rolled around in the dirt, whirling in confusion.

“What the--?” Eddie blurted out, somewhat dazed from what just happened. “What’s going on?”

A nearby growl answered the question for me.

Prowling towards us with a hungry glare in its eyes, a lone wolf stealthily approached me and Eddie, its paws just barely kissing the ground as if it were getting ready to jump. It didn’t look like there were any others around, and this one was still relatively far away. I raised a calming hand, attempting to make sure neither the wolf nor Eddie made any sudden moves.

“...Whoa, there...” I warned, subtly reaching for my gun, “...easy, boy...”

The wolf continued to creep in my direction, showing no signs of leaving. The last thing I wanted to go trigger-happy in the middle of the wilderness where god-knows-what was roamin’ around, but I also didn’t wanna see my newest friend get eaten alive.

Whipping out my revolver, I fired a few warning shots just next to the beast and scared it off while Eddie stayed back.

“Go on!” I shouted. “Get! Leave us alone!”

The wolf instantly turned on its heel and let out a frightened whimper, scurrying away before it disappeared into the distant forests. I didn’t hear any other howls or see any signs of other beasts lurking in the area, and so far, no one seemed hurt.

I let out a sigh of relief, checking on Eddie.

“There it goes. You alright?”

The boy rose up from the gravelled ground, patting dirt off him. 

“Yeah...I’m okay,” he confirmed, slightly shaken. “You look like you’ve dealt with your fair share of wolves before.”

I holstered my gun, scoffing. “Too many times. I had to save one of my idiot friends from an entire pack of ‘em once. Bastard got more than a few scars to remind him to stay the hell away. Just glad I could save you, too. Oh, and uh...sorry ‘bout the clothes.”

Eddie looked down at his stained coat, chuckling in amusement. “Yes, it seems every time we cross paths, I always end up covered in mud. No worries, though. At least they aren’t blood stains. Thank you, by the way. I’d probably be dead now if you hadn’t been here.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Walking over to my horse, I carefully approached the spooked animal before giving her a comforting rub on the neck, attempting to calm her nerves as she whinnied nervously.

“Shhh...” I whispered softly. “Easy, girl. You’re alright. There ain’t nothin’ can hurt you now. You’re okay.”

I reached into my satchel to feed her a quick snack, only to realize the accessory was missing from my person when my hand touched air. 

I backed away from the horse, glancing around as I searched for the damned thing.

“The hell? Where’s my satchel? Agh...it must’ve dropped somewhere when we were bucked off.”

Eddie pointed to a bag on the ground along with a number of items scattered next to it and knelt down, closely examining them. They must’ve fallen out when the satchel’s flap came loose.

“Is this it?” He asked, taking an open book into his hands. “Here, let me...help...”

The boy’s voice faltered out of nowhere and he paused mid-sentence, causing me to cock my head in curiosity as he took a sudden interest in the book.

“...What is it?” I urged, throwing a casual glance in his direction, only to damn-near have a heart attack.

Eddie had found my journal. 

...And he was now staring at the portrait I made of him. 

Christ, out of all the drawings, it had to open on that page?

Slowly standing up from the ground, Eddie mindlessly continued to examine the quick sketch as his eyes nailed themselves to the drawing, his face covered with amazement.

“...Arthur...” he breathed out, “...did you...did you draw this?”

I waved a dismissive hand, trying to change the subject. 

“Ah, it’s nothing. I just...make doodles sometimes. Of places I’ve been to, things I’ve seen...people I’ve met.”

Eddie chuckled in an impressed manner. “What do you mean, it’s nothing? Arthur, this is incredible. I had a feeling you were an artist, but I didn’t expect this. It looks...just like me.”

I scratched the back of my head, my cheeks startin’ to feel a bit heated. Oh, good lord-- was I actually blushin’ like some flustered adolescent? I couldn’t believe it. What a goddamned fool I was.

Clearing his throat, the boy hurriedly closed the journal when he noticed my awkward behavior and handed it back to me, averting his gaze out of embarrassment.

“Erm -- I’m sorry,” Eddie apologized. “I didn’t mean to be intrusive. It’s just, you have a lot of skill, and I’ve...well, I’ve never known anyone who could draw like that.”

Calming down slightly, I stared at the portrait for a moment before peering at the musician, biting my lip in thought.

“...You wanna keep it?” I offered. His expression lit up with gratitude. 

“...Could I?”

“Sure,” I replied, carefully tearing the sheet out. “I can always make another.”

Eddie gently took the drawing into his grasp, holding it as if it would break at any moment. 

“I...thank you, Arthur. I really appreciate this. I’ll keep it close, I promise.”

The young man slipped the piece of paper into his coat, making sure it was secure before giving me a little smirk.

“What?” I said, chuckling.

“Oh, nothing...” he teased. “I just knew you weren’t as rough as you acted. Though I suppose it’s good that you least know how to act in the first place. Many other people -- like myself -- are clueless in the wilderness. You must think me quite the city buffoon.”

I laughed with a shrug, leaning against a nearby tree.

“Well...that’s the thing,” I said. “You don’t have to act out here. This is all nature. There are no pretenses, no masks, no guessing. Just one rule: treat the Earth right, and she’ll treat you right back. Most o’ the time, anyway...”

Eddie gazed into the woods, looking at where the wolf from before ran off to.

“I can see why people say it’s dangerous now. We haven’t even been out here for an hour yet, and already we’ve been attacked by something.”

“It’s really not so bad,” I reassured, patting my holster, “so long as you know how to defend yourself.”

An idea struck me. “Um...do you?”

The boy shook his head. “I can throw a punch well enough, but...I’m useless with a gun.”

I pushed myself off the tree. “Well then, lemme show you how to use one. I’d sleep better knowing you could. But first, we’ll need somethin’ to aim at...”

Searching the place for a target, I suddenly remembered that I had some empty bottles of Guarma Rum in my saddlebag and began digging through the seemingly bottomless pit, fumbling for them before yanking them out.

“Here,” I presented. “These’ll do.”

Pacing around while Eddie watched me, I decided to put the bottles on a tall-enough boulder just by the water as I set them down next to each other, stepping backwards once they were in position.

I unholstered my gun, beckoning the other man to come closer to me.

“Alright,” I said, “I ain’t much of a teacher, but I’ll shoot one, show you what I know...and then we’ll see if you can hit the other. Sound good?”

Eddie gulped. “Sure...I guess. You’re the expert here.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll do fine.”

I aimed the revolver at one of the bottles. “Okay, so what you wanna do is...just make sure you got a firm grip on the gun, but don’t lock your arms. Keep your hands steady, align the sights with whatever it is you’re tryin’ to shoot, take a breath...and...” I fired the gun, instantly shattering the bottle into a pile of shards, “...shoot on the exhale. Got all that?”

The pianist still appeared a tad uneasy. “...I think so.”

“Good,” I handed the gun to him. “Now you try it.”

Hesitantly taking the revolver from me, Eddie gripped the weapon with both hands and took aim, his brows furrowed in concentration. I sauntered behind the boy, doing my best to guide him.

“Steady...” I reminded him. “And brace yourself. The recoil has more of a kick than you’d expect. Takes beginners by surprise sometimes, heh.”

Following my instructions, Eddie breathed in like I told him to and fired on the exhale, only to end up shooting the rock below the bottle.

“Okay...not too bad for a first try,” I encouraged. “Why don’t you give it another shot? See if you can hit the bottle.”

Pulling the hammer down, Eddie prepared another bullet and readied himself before pointing the gun once more, doing the same as he did before. The man seemed less afraid of the weapon this time, and the sense of uncertainty was gone from his determined stare. 

Perhaps I’d make a gunslinger outta him yet.

“Alright...let’s try this again.” 

I decided to give him a little more help on the second attempt and used my hands to position his own, pushing his arms out so they were extended farther. 

“Try aiming a bit lower...” I suggested, gently holding him in place. I couldn’t deny that my heart was beating faster than before.

“Now, remember...relax. Don’t think too much about it. Just aim, breathe in, and...”

Eddie fired a second bullet with a thunderous bang, causing the bottle to blast into a dozen broken pieces. He gasped in surprise.

“Oh!” He exclaimed happily, his voice energized with disbelief. “I...I did it! I actually did it! I hit the bottle!”

I laughed along with him, proudly patting his back.

“See? You ain’t such a buffoon, after all.” I rested my elbow on his shoulder, giving him a wink. “Well...maybe a bit.”

Eddie tittered, returning the gun to me as he looked in my eyes. “Fair enough. Thank you, Arthur. I mean it. You’ve...you’ve shown me so much already within these past two days. I’m glad I met you.”

I smiled at him. “Me too. How’s about we get you back to Saint Denis first, pay a visit to the gunsmith...and buy you your very own weapon? You shouldn’t need it in the city, but it never hurts to be armed.”

He nodded in acceptance. “I’d like that. But...could we spend some more time out here first? The day is still young and, well, to be frank...I don’t want to go back.”

“The country’s growin’ on you, is it?”

Eddie grinned. “It might just be. Even with the wolves.”

“Ohh, don’t you worry. Saint Denis has plenty of its own wolves. They just ain’t as cute.”

“That’s true,” he agreed. “Just wish I could skin them as well.”

A chortle escaped me. “I knew I liked you for a reason. Now c’mon.” I mounted my horse, gesturing for Eddie to join me. “There’s still a lot for you to see out there. You ever been to the Elysian Pool?”

The musician grabbed my hand and lifted himself up, wrapping his arm around my waist again. “No, I don’t believe I have.”

I tapped my spurs into the horse’s side. “Well, you will have now. It’s just north of here. I think you’ll like that area. The people there ain’t the friendliest, but the waterfall is somethin’ to behold. Now, let’s get going.”

Breaking into a sprint, Eddie and I continued our journey across the vibrant land as the sun finally reached its peak in the sky, warming up the world below with a cozy embrace. 

I honestly wasn’t expecting to be out here this long, and Dutch was probably wondering where I had gone by now, but the more time I spent with Eddie, the less I wanted to return to camp or Saint Denis. 

Being with that boy was like shuttin’ the rest of the universe out, and at the moment, that was exactly what I needed. So much shit was always happening with the gang whether it involved the O’Driscolls, the Pinkertons, or just arguing within the camp. Barely anyone there could stand each other now, and even Dutch and Hosea seemed to be drifting apart.

I just...couldn’t stay there. It always left me in such a sour mood. Gave me this constant sense of anger -- even more so than usual. 

It...it just felt nice to finally have someone I could relax with. Someone who wasn’t part of the mess that I called my family. Who hadn’t been damaged by the world yet. 

I only hoped I could protect him.

After all, I was probably the least safe person to be around in these parts, considering all the people hunting me down...but I just couldn’t bring myself to push Eddie away. He was the best thing I’d found out here so far, and...I was actually starting to like him a bit too much. The same way I used to like Mary.

It was a foolish dream to pursue, I knew. Eddie deserved someone far better than me, and I wasn’t meant for a life like that. 

Though, I also couldn’t deny the feeling of joy I experienced around him. Just seein’ his face alone was enough to wipe away my worries. ...He did that unlike anyone else I knew. 

I supposed, for right now, I’d just flow along with it and see what happened. Our current relationship seemed harmless enough, and I certainly didn’t mind being friends with Eddie...but the minute Dutch finished robbing Saint Denis of all its money, I’d have to let him go. Whether I liked it or not. 

It was the last thing I wanted, and I wished I could just stay with him, but I couldn’t put Eddie’s life in danger. Not like that. Being close to me was too much of a risk, and he didn’t deserve to live with that kind of fear. 

He deserved happiness.

Something that I was, and would forever be incapable of giving.


	6. A Ghost Among Men

From Eddie’s POV

SAINT DENIS, RYAN RESIDENCE

THAT NIGHT

“Don’t think too much about it,” Arthur’s gentle voice replayed in my mind. “Just aim, breathe in, and...”

A smile crept onto my face at the sweet memory whilst I sat at the piano, examining the gun he bought for me earlier.

Arthur was kind enough to gift me a beautiful Schofield revolver that had been decorated with a sleek rosewood varnish, brass frame, and blue-steel barrel. I also decided to purchase a carving of a buck on the grip, just to give it a personal touch, and hadn’t been able to stop staring at it since.

It truly was a gorgeous weapon, and it would always bring me pleasant thoughts of the day I got it...but even then, I hoped I’d never have to use it. Things were crazy enough for me in Saint Denis, what with all the chaos in my life. The last thing I wanted was to be forced to shoot someone. 

But I supposed Arthur was right in the end: it never hurt to be armed.

“Oh God, Eddie...” I muttered to myself in embarrassment, thinking back to when Arthur taught me how to shoot a gun. “...You absolute moron.”

The man actually had to hold my arms in place because I was just that clueless. 

He was so kind during the process, and showed no signs of impatience, but I didn’t even want to think about how much of an idiot Arthur must’ve thought I was.

I mean, it didn’t take much to see that he was insanely experienced with firearms. He handled guns better than an author handled a pen...and to see someone like me attempt to shoot one -- Arthur probably wanted to use me as the target.

Well, no. He probably didn’t. 

Arthur was genuinely kind, unlike most of the other people I’d met. I could see it in his eyes, even though he spoke so lowly of himself. 

He claimed he was a bad man, and yet he offered me help every time we ran into each other. I’d never seen him commit an immoral act, and he seemed to actually care about people, despite how much they might’ve annoyed him sometimes. 

Deep down, he had a heart of gold. And I didn’t know what Arthur’s idea of “bad” was, but it certainly didn’t match mine.

Putting the revolver away, I returned to the piano and flipped through my notes, hoping to get in some last-minute practice. It wasn’t my first time performing in front of a large crowd, and I had been through this before, but I still found myself rather nervous about the show to come. After all, the entirety of the audience’s focus would be on me, and I just prayed I wouldn’t screw it up under the stress. I couldn’t afford to.

Relaxing my hands, I began to play the same melody I performed for Arthur the other day as my fingers danced across the keys, causing me to think back to the portrait the man had made of me.

Even though I had my suspicions Arthur was somewhat of an artist, I didn’t expect him to be that skilled. The portrait had a surprising amount of detail in it along with a rough but beautiful technique of shading, and it almost felt like I was staring at a mirror. 

He even scribbled down a few words underneath the drawing with a type of handwriting I never thought I’d see from a man of his background, and wrote out the words I said to him when he came to my house. 

Arthur truly was a marvel. The kind of man that only appeared once in a lifetime. 

I just never thought it’d be during mine.

“...Ah, there you are.”

Jumping at the sudden voice, I instantly retreated my hands from the piano as if I were touching a hot stove, whipping around to see who had paid me a visit at this late hour.

A sense of anxiety began to inflate inside me upon seeing my guest’s face as I slowly dragged down the piano’s lid, clearing my throat in an awkward manner before greeting them.

“...Thatcher,” I said, averting my gaze from the man. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Evidently not,” Middleton replied, prowling into the room. “I wanted to discuss the matter we were talking about earlier, when your...friend interrupted us.”

I glanced out the window, peering into the night’s blackness. 

“...Now? Isn’t it a bit late?”

Thatcher helped himself to a glass of wine before having a seat in the same chair Arthur used, his lifeless, smoke-colored eyes never leaving me.

“Well, I would’ve come earlier, but seeing as how you were out gallivanting all day, I didn’t exactly have the chance. Did you have fun with Mister Morgan? He certainly seems like...quite the riveting character.”

I hesitated to answer. 

“...What do you want, Thatcher?”

Middleton took a sip, studying me for a moment with an astute glare before responding. 

“...I want my money, Edward. The money that you said you’d repay ages ago. The money that I can easily get from Rose if you aren’t around anymore. Only...he won’t give it to me if he finds out you’re still alive.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “For someone who claims to be his own man, you certainly are loyal to that rat.” 

I rested my elbows on my knees. “Look, I’m trying my best here, Thatcher. I said I’d pay you back and I will. But you keep asking for money when I have none to give. I just need some time. And patience. Fortunately for the both of us, the profit from tomorrow’s show should pay off the debt. And then our business will finally be concluded.”

Middleton lightly drummed his fingers against his wine glass, emitting a series of soft but sharp clinks.

“Good,” he said, his calm yet guttural voice rumbling in his throat. “Because I’m done waiting, Mister Ryan. If I don’t get my money soon, I might just have to finish the job, and bring Atticus Rose the blood he paid for.”

“I understand,” I reiterated. “Just...please. Give me some more time. I don’t have the money yet, but I will soon. All I need is a while longer. I beg you.”

I actually felt ashamed saying those words, and frowned upon myself for behaving in such a manner. 

Good god, I hated begging like this. It made me feel so weak. So helpless. It was humiliating. And all for what? The empty promise of survival? For all I knew, Middleton could’ve been planning to kill me after collecting my debt anyways. He’d never have to tell anyone about our little deal, and he’d get double the reward from Atticus just for bringing my head. 

I had lured myself into a trap like the fool I was, and as far as I could tell, there was no way out of it. 

What the hell was I supposed to do next?

Considering my offer, Thatcher furrowed his brows in thought as he downed the rest of his wine, afterwards setting the glass down and silently heading for the door. 

The man didn’t say anything, and the only thing that could be heard at the moment was the soft thud of his shoes hitting the floor, but I could still tell there were about a thousand different thoughts tangling inside his head.

I didn’t know why Thatcher was bothering to show me any mercy. He could’ve just put a bullet in my head here and now, and put an end to this...game. But for whatever reason, the assassin had decided to spare me in exchange for money, and pretend like I never even existed so long as he got the reward he was promised. It made me wonder if there were any ulterior motives behind his actions, and frankly, I was terrified to find out.

Middleton took one last look at me before showing himself out, pointing up a single finger.

“...One day,” he settled. “That’s it. One more day to live, or to pay. The outcome depends on you entirely, Eddie.”

I reluctantly agreed with the extension, silently cursing Thatcher for his endless cruelty. I wanted more than nothing to break out of the leash he had around my neck, but I knew I was powerless to do so. After all, I was no match for a man such as Middleton.

He had killed dozens of people in the past, and if I even attempted to fight back, I knew damn well that Thatcher would easily send me to an early grave.

Good lord...part of me kind of wished I had allowed Middleton to kill me back in England.

A defeated breath escaped me. “...Very well,” I replied. “One more day.”

Thatcher seemed pleased. 

For now.

“Good. Otherwise, you know what happens. Until then, farewell, Mister Ryan. I’m glad we could come to an understanding. I just hope you can come through with it. ...For your sake.”

~~~~~~~~~~

From Arthur’s POV

THE NEXT EVENING

SHADY BELLE

“Well, well, well!” Dutch exclaimed in an impressed tone, eyeing me up and down as he waved a cigar around. “Look at you, big man! You know, you don’t look half bad when you’re not covered in blood. Half of you is all I can see most of the time. Hah!”

I adjusted the ascot tie clinging around my neck, attempting to give myself some room to breathe as I squirmed in my suit. 

A noose would’ve honestly been preferable at this point.

“Is this really necessary, Dutch?” I questioned, feeling like a pompous idiot.

“We want to grab as little attention as possible on this heist,” he reminded. “That means we have to fit in. Especially you and Mary-Beth. So yes, it is necessary.”

I shrugged. “...Fine. So, is the plan still the same?”

Dutch nodded. “Most of it, yes. The only thing I’ve decided to change is your role in this. Instead of pretending to be a couple out to see a show, you and Mary-Beth are gonna wear some masks that Charles and I snatched. The same masks that the actors will be wearing.”

I felt my heart stop. “The actors? Oh lord, Dutch. Please don’t tell me...”

He let out a guffaw. “Have no fear, son. You won’t be going on stage. I just need you and Mary-Beth to pretend like you’re a pair of actors who were...late to the show or something. Just keep the clerk distracted. Meanwhile, Bill will sneak into the ticket office from behind and...‘convince’ them to hand over every single dollar sittin’ in that register. When that’s done, the three of you will meet Charles outside. He’ll have a stagecoach ready to go once you’ve got the money, and then all of you will get the hell outta there.”

“And if somethin’ goes wrong?” I asked.

“Then we do whatever we must to escape. But the ideal outcome here is: no one dies, and we’re out of the theater before anyone even figures out what happened. If the law does somehow get alerted though, do not head straight back to camp, and split up. Understand?”

“Got it.”

Dutch patted me on the shoulder. “Then I wish you good luck. Oh, and put this on.” 

Handing over one of the most flamboyant accessories I’ve ever seen, Dutch presented a porcelain mask decorated with bold jewels, paint, and feathers...as if to rub salt into my wounds.

I took the hideous thing into my hands, observing it with a face of fear as it stared back at me. 

“If I had any good luck I wouldn’t be wearin’ this as a robbery mask.”

“Oh, just wait ‘till you see what Mary-Beth has to wear. You’ll be forgiving me later.”

I slipped the mask inside my overcoat. “The money will be forgiveness enough.”

He chuckled. “That it will. Well, be careful today, Arthur. And keep your wits about you. This job should be easy enough to pull off, but you know what they say. Expect the unexpected.”

I waved goodbye to Dutch, heading out to find Mary-Beth.

“That’s all I expect.”

~~~~~~~~~~

ONE HOUR LATER

Squeezing myself into the stagecoach while Charles climbed up top, I found myself sharing a bit too much room with Bill as the both of us were forced to practically touch knees, barely able to fit in this box with wheels.

“And people say I'm grumpy.” I remarked, noticing the less than happy expression on Bill’s face.

“Shut up, Morgan.” He snapped back.

“Hey,” I replied with a chuckle, “at least you got the honors of wavin’ a gun around. Dutch wants me to keep mine holstered. All I get to do is stand there...and let the clerk gawk at me.”

Williamson rested a hand on his knee. “I’m surprised Dutch even let me take the money on this one. Usually, he always puts you in charge of emptying the register. Or the vault. Or pockets. Or whatever it is we’re stealin’ from.”

I leaned back in my seat, doing my best to get comfortable for the ride ahead.

“Well, Dutch did say the best way to pull off this mission is to fit in. And no offense, Bill, but...you kinda scare the shit outta people.”

Bill scoffed. “And you don’t?”

I let out a sigh. “Oh, I will once I put this mask on. Looks like someone skinned the devil.”

Williamson crossed his arms and stared out the tiny window. “At least you’ll have no issues fittin’ in, then.”

“Heh. That I won’t.”

Opening the stagecoach’s door, Mary-Beth joined the conversation as she plopped herself next to me, showing the most amount of excitement out of all of us. There was a certain spark in her eyes that made it look like she hadn’t stepped outside for ages, and she certainly seemed much more relaxed. Well, at least one of us was happy.

“Hello, fellas.” She greeted, tidying her gown.

“Hey there, Mary-Beth,” I responded. “You seem eager to get to work.”

“Oh, I am. This is the first big heist I’ve done in months. I’m just so glad Dutch chose me to come along with you boys. If I had stayed in camp for another minute, I might’ve lost my mind.”

Bill adjusted his suit. “You’ll lose it much faster out there.”

I smiled at Mary-Beth. “Well, I look forward to hearin’ your retelling of this one at the campfire.”

The young woman smirked. “It was just the three of us, sneakin’ our way under the moonlight’s dreamy gaze as we prepared to rob the grandest theater in all o’ Saint Denis...”

Bill grumbled. “...and we looked like fuckin’ idiots.”

We all chortled at that as the stagecoach began to move, prompting us to put our gear on.

“Alright,” I said with a soft laugh. “Enough of that. Get your masks on, people. The theater ain’t far from here.”

Mary-Beth followed my instructions and slipped hers on, causing my eyes to widen out of surprise.

“Jesus -- Dutch weren’t kiddin’ about your mask.”

She sighed dramatically. “I know, I know. First heist I get to go on in forever...and this is what I have to wear.”

I pulled my mask out of my coat, strapping the thing around my head. 

“Perhaps I’ll forgive Dutch, after all. Anyway, good luck to both of you. Stay calm, and stay alert. No one has to die...and ideally, no one has to figure out what we’re doin’ before we’re gone. ‘Cause otherwise, I don’t feel like puttin’ on a second show for these folks.”

Mary-Beth gave me a firm nod. “We’re ready, Arthur.”

“...Then let’s do this.”

~~~~~~~~~~

SAINT DENIS, THE RÂLEUR

Walking up to the theater once all the guests had already purchased their tickets, Mary-Beth and I approached the front doors together just as the show was starting to begin, giving us the perfect opportunity to slither in.

There were plenty of empty stagecoaches and horses waiting outside, and the closer we got, the more we could hear the muffled cheers of the audience enjoying the performance. Judging by the volume, there was going to be a hell lot of money just waitin’ for us to snatch. I only hoped that everything went according to plan.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Looks clear. Bill, find a way into the ticket booth. Quietly. Mary-Beth and I will distract the clerk in the meantime. Once you’re inside, we’ll grab the money from the register and meet Charles back here afterwards. Then, we get the hell outta this city before anyone even knows what happened. Got it?”

Bill pulled up his bandana. “Got it.”

I turned to Mary-Beth. “And you?”

She grinned. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good. Then let’s get to work.”

Breaking off from the group, Bill went on his own path while Mary-Beth and I hurriedly strolled towards the front doors, both our hearts pumping rapidly in our chests despite our calm exteriors. 

It had been a long while since anything went right for the gang, and if I was being perfectly honest, I weren’t too confident about the this robbery either. 

There were next to no cops around, even less witnesses...and the amount of money being promised to us almost sounded too good to be true. Part of me wanted to believe this was just a good score and that we were lucky enough to seize it, but my better judgement knew this wasn’t going to come without consequences.

Well, whatever storm was headin’ our way, I had faith that Dutch and the gang would be prepared for it. We survived Blackwater, we survived the mountains, and we sure as hell weren’t dying now. We had gone too far to go back.

Pushing the glass doors open, Mary-Beth and I casually sauntered in as the ticket clerk’s head perked upwards, greeting us with curious eyes. 

“Ah, are you more of Abbington’s actors?” He asked, recognizing the masks. “Well, the show’s already started, but you should have enough time to slip in before anyone notices. Don’t wanna be late to a performance this big. Especially not with how many people are in the audience. Y’all have really planned something special tonight, haven’t you?”

I spotted Bill sneaking in from a side door as he stuck close to the walls, gradually inching his way to the booth. 

I approached the clerk, keeping his attention away from everything but me.

“You have no idea,” I replied. “But actually, we’re lookin’ for a friend of ours. He’s another actor. Mighta seen him stumblin’ around here? He’s about this tall, always has a sour look on his face. A clumsy feller, but he knows what he’s doing. Just has a...a habit of being late, sometimes.”

The clerk shook his head. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen anyone like that, friend. Have you checked with Abbington? Or perhaps Miss Marjorie?”

I decided to drop the subject. “Nah, we already asked them, but no harm done. We’ll keep looking for him. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere--” I paused in the middle of my words and pointed in the distance, letting out a chuckle. “Ah, never mind...there he is.”

Following my gaze, the clerk froze when he suddenly heard the sound of a gun being cocked behind him, not daring to move a single muscle as Bill nearly nailed the barrel into his head.

“Don’t scream,” I immediately warned, keeping my voice low. “Don’t cry. Don’t even breathe. Just give us the money in that there register. Otherwise, Benjamin Lazarus ain’t gonna be the only one catchin’ a bullet tonight.”

Bill applied more pressure with his rifle. “Do what he says.” He demanded.

The clerk held up his hands in surrender, whimpering out of fear.

“O-Okay, okay! I’ll give you the money. J-Just, please...don’t hurt anyone.”

“Oh believe me,” I threatened as the man desperately opened the register, “we don’t wanna hurt nobody. But we sure as shit will. If you give us enough of a reason to.”

Fumbling through the register with trembling hands, the clerk hastily gathered all the money clips and handed them to Bill while the show carried on inside, entrancing the crowd as they clapped and cheered, completely oblivious to the fact that their money was being taken away.

“That’s it...” Bill urged him. “Keep the cash coming.”

Mary-Beth whistled out of amazement, staring at all the green now sitting in Williamson’s bag. 

“Whoo, would you look at all that money? I guess you boys was right about this job.”

“Just don’t let your guard down,” I reminded. “We ain’t outta here yet.”

Tossing every coin he could find into Williamson’s bag, the clerk threw his hands up in the air once again when he was finished and stared at us with a horrified, bewildered expression.

“Is that all the money?” I questioned. 

“...Y-Yes!” He answered. I didn’t believe him.

I decided to bluff. “Alright, well if that’s the case...I guess we’ll just finish you off and search the rest of the place ourselves.”

“What?!” The clerk yelped.

“It’s nothin’ personal...” I reassured. “Just don’t wanna leave behind any loose ends. I’m sure you understand.”

“W-Wait!” He exclaimed. “There’s no more money, but there are some very valuable props backstage. Made out of gold and silver, they are. Jewels, too. You could sell them for a fine price, I imagine.”

“That so?” I asked. “I’ll go check. See if he’s tellin’ the truth. Mister W, you stay and make sure our friend here behaves. Miss G, why don’t you go on and bring the money to where it belongs? I’ll meet up with you two later.”

“Sounds good.” Mary-Beth agreed as I began making my way backstage. 

“Be careful back there,” Bill warned. “Never know what you could run into with these freaks.”

I chuckled mischievously, throwing a glance back at him. 

“Which freaks we talkin’ about here?”

~~~~~~~~~~

BACKSTAGE

Roaming quietly through the clutters of props, mannequins, and furniture stored in the back of the theater, I cautiously searched for the valuables the clerk spoke of as I did my best to avoid any of the staff who could’ve been wandering around. 

Right now, it seemed like most of the people involved in the show were on the other side of the curtain, and so far, I hadn’t seen any other actors backstage. Still though, I wanted to leave as soon as possible. I could sneak around well enough, but I didn’t want to push our luck more than we already had.

Sifting through the multiple boxes and crates scattered around, I picked up a few things here and there that I thought we could sell to a fence, constantly checking behind me to ensure no one crept up while I wasn’t looking.

Even if I didn’t manage to take everything though, we had stolen more than enough money for one night. I knew Dutch said there’d be loads of cash for us to lift at the theater, but I had no idea just how many people were actually gonna be pourin’ through the doors today. 

We must’ve collected a few hundred dollars. At least. And that was without all the stuff I found back here.

Maybe Dutch wasn’t quite as lost as I expected. Maybe the old man had been right all along, and I was the one changing. Not him. 

I just wanted what was best for the gang. Sure, there was a lot of rotten people within our big, dysfunctional family...but we also had good people. Those who deserved a better life. A life that we were capable of giving to them. All we needed to make that happen...was one last score. And then, we were free.

“Don’t...move.”

Halting in my tracks, I came to a stop when I heard the unmistakable sound of someone pulling down the hammer of a gun, and a series of gentle, yet unwavering footsteps coming from behind me. 

Shit.

“Throw your weapon away.” They ordered. 

Careful not to provoke them, I steadily turned around to face the confronter as I left the props on the floor and complied, never taking my eyes off them.

“Listen, boy...” I said, slowly rotating my body. “I didn’t come here to shoot no one, but that don’t mean--”

Cutting off mid-sentence, I felt my skin turn to stone when I finally laid eyes upon the stranger’s face, suddenly regretting ever coming here in the first place.

Pointing a Schofield revolver directly at my head, Eddie stared me down with a frightened but unbreakable strength in his forest-colored eyes as he tried to calm his own breath, clearly terrified by the whole situation even if he didn’t show it.

Well...if there was a god above, he certainly had a unique sense of humor. I couldn’t believe it. 

I was being held at gunpoint.

By my own student.

In a theater that I was trying to rob.

“Look,” Eddie said, his tone shaking slightly, “I don’t know who you are, but just...go. Leave everything you took behind, and don’t come back. Please. No one needs to get hurt.”

I took a few, subtle steps forward, trying to remain calm.

“Easy there, partner...” I murmured. 

Eddie gulped out of anxiety and mindlessly clenched his jaw, unable to move due to the terror holding him down.

“I-I mean it,” he reiterated. “Leave.”

I continued to approach him despite his commands, whispering softly in an attempt to ease the boy’s nerves.

“...Now, I ain’t gonna hurt you...” I reassured. “I just came here for money. Not blood.”

The pianist fell silent at that, his arms quivering as he kept the gun aimed at me. I could tell he was scared, but not scared enough to pull the trigger. Eddie didn’t strike me as the type to shoot someone out of panic, and I certainly prayed that I was right.

“...That’s it...” I encouraged. “Nice and easy...”

Eddie stayed in place, his breath still somewhat quick, but not quite as fear-driven as before. It was working. 

My lord, I could only imagine what I was doing to this poor kid. He weren’t gonna be able to sleep for the rest of the week, and I’d probably be in every single one of his nightmares from here on out. 

Though, I couldn’t deny that Eddie certainly had a pair of stones on him. He had a bravery I’d not seen in very many other people, and I didn’t even want to think about how much hell he’d raise if he had the same gunslinging skills as Dutch.

Just as I was about to defuse the tension however, Bill himself suddenly snuck up behind Eddie and bashed him in the back of the head with his rifle, knocking the boy out cold before he even hit the floor.

I glared at the attacker, instantly rushing over to Eddie’s unconscious body as Bill grabbed the props.

“The hell, Williamson?!” I practically growled through gritted teeth.

“What?” He exclaimed, hauling the sack over his shoulder. “Dutch said no killing. He never mentioned anything about hittin’ people!”

I sighed in irritation. “That’s not the point-- oh for Christ’s sake, forget it. Let’s just get outta here. C’mon, Charles and Mary-Beth will be waitin’ outside.”

“Who’s ridin’ shotgun?” Bill asked, following me to the front of the theater. 

“I will,” I answered. “You just worry about keeping that money safe. We got a lot sittin’ in those bags, and we ain’t losing ‘em now!”

Escaping with Williamson, the two of us ran like hell as I unholstered my own guns and kept an eye out for any lawmen that could’ve been lurking about, still feeling incredibly guilty over what happened with Eddie.

The boy was only trying to protect the money that he earned, and not only did I sweep it out from right under him, I also put him through what would probably be one of the most terrifying moments of his life.

Unlike everyone else I knew, Eddie had never killed a man before or lived the life of an outlaw. He had grown comfortable with the safety of a city’s walls, and to end up being stuck between two robbers like he did tonight...I was gonna have to make this up to him somehow.

But I’d worry about that later. Right now, my only concern was getting out of Saint Denis as fast as humanly possible. For the first time in a while, things actually went mostly according to plan, and we just stole a more-than-decent chunk of cash. Dutch was going to be pleased.

“There’s Charles,” I announced as we came through the entrance. “Quick! Get in, and let’s go!”

Climbing onto the stagecoach, Bill took the sacks of money and stuffed himself inside with Mary-Beth, the four of us taking off as soon as the door was closed.

Even though there were no lawmen chasing us at the moment, neither Charles nor I wanted to take any chances and urged the horses to gallop faster as we bolted through the city’s streets, almost floating above the cobblestone with our speed. 

I had to admit: despite the encounter with Eddie, I was feelin’ good for once. It was about time a robbery went right...but I still couldn’t help wondering how this was going to affect the pianist’s life. 

I mean, now that I thought about it, every time I talked with the man, he was always mentioning how much he needed more money. He mentioned it at the saloon. He mentioned it after we ran into Miss Powell... 

I didn’t know if he was in some sort of trouble, or what was going on in his life, but...Eddie did sound a bit desperate. 

Jesus, what had I gotten myself into? Even when something finally worked out for the gang, I still had my doubts about our victory. 

Sure, we were a huge step closer to buying our freedom, but at what cost? The freedom of another? 

To be honest...I didn’t know if it was worth it.

I mentally slapped myself across the face, snapping back to reality.

No, I couldn’t afford to think like that. Empathy got you killed out in these lands, and compassion betrayed you. My place was at Dutch and Hosea’s side, and that was where it’d always be. No matter what. And I’d just have to accept that.

I liked Eddie. I really did. Hell, maybe I even had the potential to love him...but not in this life. I had already pursued love enough times to know how it ended, and I couldn’t bear to put the boy through the same fate.

He was a kind soul, built to lift those around him. 

As for me -- I was nothing but a ghost walkin’ among men. 

And regardless of what I felt for Eddie...

...None of it was gonna change a damn thing.


	7. Your Tomb is my Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we get to the chapter, I just wanted to thank you all for the continuous support you’ve been giving me. It really makes this story all the more exciting to write when I know you guys are liking it, and I hope you’ll stick with it. So, thanks again, and please enjoy :)

From Arthur’s POV

SHADY BELLE

“Well done!” Dutch complimented as we unloaded the money from the stagecoach. “Very well done, indeed. I had a feelin’ that the theater was laden with cash, and it looks like I was right.”

I helped Bill out and lifted one of the sacks over my shoulder, bringing it over to Dutch’s office.

“We got more than just the money,” I informed him. “We also managed to swipe some of the props they was storin’ backstage. They’re pretty valuable, apparently. Made outta gold and silver. Fancy gemstones, too.”

The other man nodded happily. “Good, good. Well, once you fellas are finished getting these sacks where they need to be, one of you go visit our dear friend Seamus and see what he can do with those props. The rest o’ you, get some rest. Hosea and I got a few ideas with the bank, as well as that gala Arthur’s been lookin’ into. But for now, just enjoy this moment. You deserve it.”

Walking off to attend to other matters, Dutch took his leave while Bill, Charles, and I hauled the bags into the ruined mansion we called our home, plopping them down just inside the flimsy front doors. 

It had been quite a while since I’d seen so much money in one place, and half of me felt relieved that we finally avoided a disaster for once. The last time we got a score this big was back in Blackwater, and even then, we didn’t get to keep the money. Just tossed it into some hidden stash only to never retrieve it. 

To be honest, the only reason I wanted to get it back now was so Micah would shut up about it.

But despite all the thanks and congrats from my fellow gang members, I still couldn’t shake Eddie out of my thoughts. 

Williamson knocked the poor boy flat on the ground back at the theater, and I highly doubted he woke up in time for his part in the performance. Not that it mattered much. Any money Eddie would’ve made from the show, we just stole. 

Lord...what was I doin’ with my life? One minute I was helping out some lost kid come stumblin’ here from England...and the next I was robbing him blind. It was like I couldn’t decide who to be.

Pfft. Here I was always tellin’ Marston not to be two people at once, and yet I was masquerading as about fifteen. 

I just...

...I didn’t know. 

Deep down, some part of me wanted to forget all about the gang and run off with Eddie someplace. I hardly knew the boy, and he knew even less about me...but somethin’ about that pianist just told me he was a soul worth saving.

The way he confronted me at the theater...I could tell the man was terrified for his life. But even then, he didn’t waver. Didn’t flinch. Instead, Eddie looked me square in the eye and kept his gun up, regardless of how much he might’ve wanted to run away. 

Well, he might not’ve been the strongest in terms of physique, but Mister Ryan certainly possessed a courage that was only carried by men who still had something left to fight for. 

I only wondered what it was. 

Headin’ upstairs to my room, I decided to call it a day and threw off my gun belt the second I walked in before collapsing right into bed, allowing myself to sink into the mattress as I shut my eyes.

Jesus...after all the hell I raised today, I was definitely gonna have to make it up to Eddie somehow. 

Maybe I could pay him a visit tomorrow. Take him out ridin’ again and practice some more with his gun. Probably a stupid idea, considering he nearly blew my damned brains out today -- or what was left of ‘em -- but I enjoyed spending time with the boy. I was only worried that today’s robbery might’ve messed him up more than I thought.

I mean, sure, I acted all big and bad now...but I still hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to be on the other end of a gun. It was an experience that never faded from your memory, and to put Eddie through the same shit...I felt like a monster. And perhaps I was. I just couldn’t quite admit it to myself yet.

Ah, well. There weren’t much I could do about it now. 

I was an outlaw survivin’ off of other people’s misery, and I knew as well as the next man that a change of heart didn’t come overnight. Sometimes, it never came.

I was just gonna have to spend what time I had left with Eddie and bid him farewell when the moment arrived. After all, Dutch couldn’t stick around Shady Belle forever. He and I both knew there was no such thing as “lyin’ low” with him, and sooner or sooner, we was gonna have to flee at some point. 

For now though, I simply silenced my mind and tried to get some real sleep for once as the moon slowly inched its way across the sky, casting beams of light through my broken window. 

I was exhausted, I was grumpy, and most of all I was sick of dealing with the gang’s bullshit. But despite all that, there was still a little spark inside me, excited and eager to see Eddie tomorrow.

I supposed we’d just have to see where this “friendship” went. 

To see if...he’d be the one to finally stay by my side, or if he’d eventually drop outta my life like everyone else.

For the boy’s sake...I seriously hoped it was the latter.

~~~~~~~~~~

THE NEXT MORNING

SAINT DENIS, RYAN RESIDENCE

Letting out a quiet yawn, I rolled my shoulders and gave my horse a gentle pat on the neck as we trotted underneath the white, morning sun, making our way to Eddie’s house.

As always, it was rather calm in this area of the city -- unlike the packed streets downtown -- and so far, there was only a few people strollin’ about, chatting to each other in languages I’d never even heard of as they dragged their poor, tiny dogs around in leashes. A reflection of their so-called “civilization,” I reckoned.

I had already been traveling for quite some time by now, and...I still had no clue what I was gonna say to Eddie when I saw him. If saw him.

Even if the boy didn’t know it was me at the robbery last night...it felt wrong to just show up at his doorstep the following day, and act like I ain’t had nothing to do with the sudden lack of funds in the theater. 

I was gonna have to lie straight to his face...which was something I did all the time. So why the hell did I feel so goddamned guilty now?

It weren’t like I was new to this sort of life. I had been runnin’ as an outlaw with Dutch for over twenty years now. Robbing, lying, and killing were the only things I knew how to do. And up until now, I never questioned it. Sure, there were times when I disagreed with it, or even disliked it...but never questioned it. This was the only way we could survive, and I always went along blindly with it.

I sighed in annoyance to myself, dragging a hand down my face.

My god...what was Eddie doin’ to me? The world used to be so simple before I met him. So black and white. 

Dutch was the “good” guy, and the Pinkertons were the “bad” guys. I had a side, and the gang had a mission. That was it.

But now...I couldn’t take one breath without worrying about the consequences. I experienced more empathy than I ever had in my entire life, and for the first time in these past two decades, it was even hard to disagree with the law. Hell, I helped them sometimes, catching their sorry bounties. 

It just...it honestly frightened me a bit how much Eddie was changin’ me. Simply by being around that man, my moral compass went into a frenzy, and I could hardly tell right from wrong anymore. 

Well, whatever conflicts I had to deal with on the inside, I was just thankful that I still had a clear target to shoot at. No matter how much Dutch messed up, Agent Milton and the Pinkertons would always be worse. And it was a hell of a lot easier to shoot a man when you hated him.

Doing myself a favor, I rescued my own mind from itself and focused back on the real world as Eddie’s serene house came into view, giving me a sense of both relief and uncertainty. 

As glad as I was to be here, I couldn’t help but notice the unfamiliar horse hitched outside the fence. I didn’t recall Eddie ever having his own mount, and even if he did, this didn’t seem like the type of animal he’d have.

This horse was more of a beast, to be honest. It looked like an Ardennes, and was jet black with a matching mane. There were a few scars scattered on the big boy along with a nasty look in his eyes, and the saddle was equipped with more weapons than mine. Whose was this?

Hopping off my own horse, I hitched her not too far away from the Ardennes and cautiously walked up to the front door, feeling uneasy about the whole situation for some reason. Nothing had actually happened to put me on edge yet...but my gut just told me something weren’t quite right.

“...Eddie?” I called out, climbing up the porch’s steps. “It’s me, Arthur!”

No response. 

“Eddie!” I repeated, a bit louder this time. “You home?” I firmly knocked on the door, still receiving no reaction. 

Did he already leave for the theater? It was pretty early, and I expected the Râleur to be on lockdown for at least a few days after what happened.

I tried knocking again.

“Eddie! It’s Arthur! I just...I wanted to...check up on you, I guess. See how things was going. You in there?”

Just like before, the only response I got was silence. There were no footsteps, no voices, nothing. I guessed he wasn’t home.

After a while of waiting, I decided to come back later and reluctantly turned on my heel, heading back outside the fence as my head hung low in disappointment. 

I supposed it made sense Eddie would be busy, especially considering his career was hanging by a thread at the moment. I just hoped I’d at least catch a glimpse of him before returning to Dutch and the gang.

Just as I was about to leave however, a familiar, muffled voice reached my ears from inside the house’s walls, causing me to stop dead in my tracks. It didn’t sound like they were talkin’ to me, and it sounded like they were in danger.

“...I-I told you, I don’t have the money!” Eddie explained in panic, followed by a heavy thud.

What the hell was going on in there?

“I said you had one more day, and you agreed!” another man snarled back. “So where is it?!” I heard a slap.

“I know what I said, and I meant it!” Eddie pleaded. “I had your money ready, but the theater was robbed last night! What do you expect me to do?”

There was another thud. 

“Oh, there’s nothing you can do now, Mister Ryan. I’ve given you more than enough chances. But I’m done...and so are you. Rose has paid me a handsome sum to bring him your head, and I’ll gladly do so.”

Upon hearing that, the sudden urge to protect Eddie ignited inside me and I immediately broke into a sprint, running towards the front door without a second thought as I slammed it open and stumbled in. 

“Eddie?!” I called out, frantically searching around the house.

I didn’t see Eddie or his assailant on the first floor, and the commotion sounded like it was coming from the room where he stored his piano, leading me to instantly head upstairs. I heard more shouting.

“Leave me be!” The pianist yelped, sounding as if he was in pain. My heart was racing faster than my feet now.

“A contract is a contract, Edward!” The stranger barked. “Your time...is up.”

I didn’t know who the hell this son of a bitch was, but I was gonna personally see to it that he ended up with a bullet in between his eyes. Eddie didn’t deserve to get beaten like this, and he sure as shit didn’t deserve to be killed. 

But whoever this man was...I certainly hoped, for his sake, that he’d find mercy somewhere in death. 

Because he weren’t getting any from me.

Finally reaching the room, I took a few steps back and braced myself for the fight that was about to come before planting a firm foot in the wooden surface, sending the door swinging wildly open. Splinters went flying everywhere, and upon my intrusion, both Eddie and his attacker jerked their heads in my direction, pausing for just a moment.

“...A-Arthur!” Eddie exclaimed in relief. He was sitting on the floor with a protective, shaky hand held out in front of him, and his face was completely drained of all color due to fear. It made my blood boil to see him like this.

“Mister Morgan,” the other man greeted lowly. “Still in the habit of interrupting us, I see.”

Averting my attention to Eddie’s attacker, I slowly began to recognize his stone-cold face as fresh memories flashed in my head, bringing me to a conclusion I should’ve reached days ago.

“...Thatcher Middleton,” I said back, my alarmingly calm voice almost trembling with anger. “I always knew there was somethin’ odd ‘bout you.”

The assassin waved a dismissive hand and reached for his knife, ignoring what I just said as he returned his gaze to Eddie.

“Leave, sir,” Thatcher warned. “...This is none of your business.”

I clenched my fists. “Oh, it became my business the minute you laid your hands on that boy. Now, you better leave, Mister Middleton, or so help me...you won’t be leavin’ at all. Do you hear me...?”

Thatcher scoffed at that, clearly not taking me seriously. There was a certain air about him that said he was no stranger to killing, and to be honest, it was probably a dumb move on my part to challenge someone like him. But all I knew right now was that Eddie’s life was in danger...and I was willing to do anything to save him.

The assassin prowled towards me, his neck craned like a vulture as he studied my every move and ran a single finger along the edge of his blade.

“...You’re quite an arrogant fool, aren’t you?” He remarked.

I steadily pulled my own knife out, never taking my eyes off the man.

“Takes one to know one.”

Thatcher glanced at Eddie, his brows furrowed with both irritation and exhaustion as the gears turned in his head.

“You wish to throw your life away for this boy?” He asked. “...So be it. You wouldn’t be the first. And you certainly won’t be the last.”

Lunging at me before I even had a chance to react, Thatcher sliced a gash right into my cheekbone, causing hot blood to stream down my face as I let out a pained hiss.

“No, Thatcher!” Eddie shouted. “Don’t hurt him!” But his words fell on deaf ears. 

Like two feral animals gone mad, Middleton and I circled each other ‘round the room as our bodies tensed up in suspense, waiting anxiously to see what the other man’s next move would be. 

Thatcher definitely had the finesse and agility of someone who was trained to kill, and if I was being perfectly honest, I had no idea what my chances of walkin’ outta here alive were. 

After all, this wasn’t the same as some casual fight with a couple of O’Driscolls, or a shootout with the law. This man clearly knew what he was doing when it came to cutting someone down, and it only took one glance at the assassin to tell that Middleton had a long list of victims.

But I couldn’t fail. Not now. Not with Eddie’s life on the line. If I fell, the boy went down with me, and I absolutely refused to let that happen.

Attempting a few swings in his direction, the tip of my knife caught onto the fabric of Thatcher’s shirt as he jumped back, landing evenly on his feet like some sort of feline.

The bastard was quick, I’d give him that. But I doubted that even he understood the measures I was willin’ to take in order to protect the pianist. Far too many people had already died because of me. It was about time I saved somebody.

Pretending to go for another swing, I flicked my knife just enough to goad a reaction out of Thatcher, giving me the opening I needed in order to dominate the fight.

I snatched the assassin’s arm as it flew by me and restrained him for just a moment, throwing a solid punch directly into his nose before trying to jab my blade into his neck -- but Middleton had already regained his composure.

Grabbing my wrist, Thatcher let out a strained groan and forcefully pushed the weapon away from his throat, locking both of us into a struggle as we tried to break free from each other’s iron grip. 

With the amount of pressure he was applying around my wrist, it felt like my hand was gonna pop off at any moment, but I didn’t give a damn. Right now, all that mattered to me was takin’ this sorry excuse of a man down, and I couldn’t have cared less how many wounds I walked away from this fight with. So long as Eddie survived.

Pushing back with a surprising amount of strength, Thatcher slammed me against a nearby wall and knocked the wind outta me, almost instantly going for my neck the minute he pinned me down.

Luckily though, I swerved my body just in time and avoided what would’ve been a killing blow, leading the assassin’s blade to impale the wood behind me. Now that his knife was stuck, I hurriedly pounded my forehead against his own and struck a knee in his groin, making him reel back in pain.

“Goddamn you...!” He cursed. 

I said nothing in response and simply leaped at the man, tackling him to the floor as I kept him down with my weight.

“...You son of a bitch!” I growled, shoving my knife down towards his chest while my arms quivered against the resistance.

Thatcher was definitely stronger than he looked, and a part of me actually regretted underestimating him due to his slender frame...but there were some points where he fought even harder than the people in the gang.

Hurling me over to the side, Middleton suddenly threw me onto the floor next to him before he climbed on top of me and followed my actions, attempting to press his own blade directly into my collarbone.

I could feel the sharp tip just kissing my skin, and as much as I hated to admit it, Thatcher was winning.

No matter how much force I put into my attacks, the assassin always seemed to overpower me, and with every passing second, his knife steadily lowered itself more and more, putting me into a state of alarm.

I couldn’t lose, I kept telling myself. 

I couldn’t let Thatcher kill Eddie. 

Even if I had to die today, I’d be damned if I didn’t bring this snake down with me.

I had to win.

Before we could wrestle with each other any further however, the explosive bang of a gunshot suddenly blasted within the room, causing Thatcher to come to a halt as his entire body froze in shock.

For a moment...all he did was stare at me with a pair of wide, lifeless eyes -- the kinda eyes a man only had when he realized his life was over.

There wasn’t a single hint of ferocity or determination left in them. 

Just fear...but not the same fear I ever experienced. 

It was more...betrayal than anything. The treacherous realization that no matter how hard you fought in life, something as simple as a bullet would be enough to end it all. 

And more importantly, a bullet from someone whom you once tried to kill.

Slowly glancing over his shoulder, Thatcher weakly searched for the source of the gunshot, only to find a much different Eddie staring straight back at him, smoking Schofield in hand.

Unlike his behavior at the theater, Eddie didn’t display the same type of terror he did with me. Instead, there was a sense of victory -- of vengeance -- in his deadly glare, and the boy didn’t even blink as he watched the soul drain from Thatcher’s face. I hardly recognized him.

But even then, I still decided to finish Middleton off myself and firmly thrusted my knife into the side of his neck, sealing his fate for good as blood spurted from his mouth.

I didn’t know why I killed him. The man was basically already dead once Eddie put a bullet in his back...but...I supposed I didn’t want the kid to live with blood on his hands.

I knew better than anyone else that a life weighed down by murder was no life at all. It was impossible to find peace. Or closure. Not just with the world, but also with yourself. 

And so, like the master conman I was, I masked the kill as my own to spare Eddie the distress of takin’ another life as I slit the assassin’s throat open, finally puttin’ an end to this pointless chaos.

Good lord...I didn’t even wanna think about how scared Eddie must’ve been of me right now. The poor boy just witnessed me murder a man in one of the most violent ways possible, and despite Thatcher bein’ just about the biggest piece of shit I ever met...I couldn’t deny I were a little frightened of myself too.

What the hell came over me just now? 

The minute the assassin threatened to kill Eddie, I turned into a different man. It was like I had no second-guesses. No questioning thoughts. All I knew was that someone I cared about was in danger...and I did what I could to stop it.

It was one of the first times in my life where I experienced pure clarity. Not only did I know what to do, I also knew why I had to do it. I had a single goal in mind, and a single target to eliminate.

...Maybe that was why I always felt so conflicted when thinkin’ about Eddie. Not because he made the world confusing or anything, but because he revealed who the true Arthur really was. He showed me who I wanted to be...and the outlaw inside me couldn’t stand the idea. 

And so, there was a constant war ragin’ in my head, battling it out to see who would win.

Bringing my attention back to Eddie, I steadily rose to my feet and stumbled away from the brutal scene, both of us staring at Thatcher’s limp and bloodied corpse, completely at a loss for words. 

It looked like the pianist was just startin’ to realize what he had done, and the perseverance on his face was soon replaced by disturbance as he looked at Middleton in horror, his breath quickening with dismay.

“...Eddie?” I softly called out, calmly walking over to the boy. “...You alright?”

The man’s gaze sank to the floor, entirely devoid of all energy. I could tell this was his first time ever watching someone get killed, and the longer he went without sayin’ anything, the more I was worried I had broken him.

“Eddie?” I said again, a bit louder this time. I was now standing mere inches away from him, and I could practically hear his heart thumping in his chest.

Out of nowhere, the musician suddenly pulled me into a tight embrace and wrapped his arms around me, holdin’ on like he would fall if he let go. I could feel him shaking a bit, and he still hadn’t said nothing...but with each passing moment, he seemed to relax slightly. 

I gently rubbed Eddie’s back in a comforting manner, holding the poor kid until his nerves settled down.

“...He was going to...to kill me,” the pianist whispered. “Oh, Arthur. I thought that was it. I thought...I thought I was done.”

“I know...” I reassured. “I know. But you need to be strong right now. Okay?”

Eddie was silent in response, leading me to grip his shoulders as I firmly held him in place.

“Look at me, Eddie,” I said, instantly being met by a pair of lost, olive eyes. “You need to keep it together. I know this is a goddamn mess...but panickin’ ain’t gonna do us any favors. You need to stay strong. Can you do that?”

Eddie took a minute to gather himself, eventually nodding in resolution once he had calmed down.

“...Yes,” he answered. “Yes. I can.”

“Good. Just...try to breathe. Now, listen to me, I’m gonna get rid of this body -- put it somewhere no one will ever find it. In the meantime, you stay here. Do not follow me, okay? I’ll come back once I’m finished.”

Eddie hesitated. “Get rid of the body--? Arthur, if someone sees you...”

“I can handle it,” I said, lifting Thatcher over my shoulder with a grunt. “You just get someplace safe, and keep that gun close. Also try to clean up any of this blood, if you can. The fewer people that know about what happened today, the smoother this’ll go. Trust me, Eddie.”

A thought struck me.

“...You do trust me, don’t you?”

The hesitance vanished from Eddie’s voice.

“With my life. You saved me today, Arthur. I’d be dead by now if it weren’t for you. Thank you.”

I shook my head. “It weren’t all me. You did good too, shootin’ Thatcher. I bet you was wantin’ to do that for a while.”

Eddie sighed. “You have no idea. Anyways, I promise I’ll explain everything later. For now though, we should focus on cleaning this up.”

“Agreed.”

The boy held me back for a moment, saying one last thing.

“Oh, and Arthur -- go through the back door. It’ll be harder for anyone to spot you there, and if you cross the gardens, you’ll reach the edge of the city. Easier to avoid the law that way.”

I nodded. “Got it. I’ll return soon. Don’t go nowhere.”

“I won’t. And please...be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt as well.”

I began making my way out of the room and hauled the dead assassin with me, descending the very same steps I had come stormin’ up not too long ago. It was insane to me how fast life could change...and how fast it could end.

I took a final glance at Eddie, giving him a sincere reply. 

“For you...anything.”


	8. Third Time's a Charm

From Arthur’s POV

NOON

BLUEWATER MARSH

Watching the gators feed on Middleton’s corpse as blood flooded through the swamps, I observed the morbid scene from a distance and bid farewell to the assassin, still thinking about the fight I had with him not too long ago.

I knew next to nothin’ about Thatcher, or what his business with Eddie was...but something in my gut told me I had just killed a man who was better off left alone.

After all, Middleton seemed like the type of feller to have friends in high places, and I could only imagine the sorta folks I’d pissed off by putting a knife in his throat. 

A troubled sigh escaped me.

Lord...what had I gotten my sorry ass into this time?

Not only did I murder a man today, I also just fed him to a bunch of beasts like some goddamned animal. I knew I weren’t no saint, but even then...I still had some twisted sense of honor to keep my sanity from deteriorating completely.

But perhaps...it was already too late. Perhaps my sanity crumbled the minute Dutch and I fled from Blackwater. Or even before that.

I just didn’t know anymore.

Turning away from the gators, I lightly snapped my horse’s reins and galloped out of the marsh, hurrying my way back to Saint Denis while the day was still young. 

I had left Eddie alone for much longer than I was comfortable with, and despite Thatcher being gone now...I still couldn’t stop myself from worrying about the pianist’s safety.

I mean, someone clearly wanted that man dead. But who? And why? What had Eddie done to get an assassin sent after him? 

Was this boy really who I pegged him to be?

Or was he just another crook wearing a mask...like the rest of this damned country? ...Like me? I certainly hoped not.

Whatever happened, I doubted our problems would end here. 

If I recalled correctly, one of the first things Eddie told me was that he was also lookin’ for freedom. But from what? Debt? Middleton? Both?

Well...Eddie did say he was gonna explain it all later, so I guessed I’d find out soon enough. 

I just had a feelin’ I weren’t gonna like the answer. 

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

SAINT DENIS, RYAN RESIDENCE

Riding up to Eddie’s house, I quickly hitched my horse next to Thatcher’s mount -- who I didn’t think realized his owner was dead just yet -- and hurried inside, constantly checking over my shoulders to make sure no one was followin’ me. 

Barely half of the day had passed, and already I’d dug myself into a deeper hole than the one Dutch was currently workin’ on. 

I mean, technically, what Middleton said was right. None of this was any of my business. I had no need to get involved. No need to protect Eddie. And yet...I just couldn’t stay out of it. I couldn’t walk away...no matter how much I probably should have.

There was just somethin’ holding me back. Something preventing me from doin’ what I normally did, and leaving people to their own problems. 

Dutch, Hosea, and I...we was strugglin’ enough -- what with all the Pinkertons and lawmen and O’Driscolls on our tail. The last thing they needed was for me to go and throw some more bullshit onto their plate.

But...regardless of whatever regrets or second thoughts I had, it was far too late to back outta this now. 

Thatcher Middleton was dead. And Eddie Ryan was alive. 

All because of me. 

And I was just gonna have to live with that.

Rushing back into the house, I wasted no time in climbing the steps to where Eddie was, only to come across the most peculiar scene once I reached the second floor. 

Instead of wiping away a puddle of blood like I was expecting him to be doing, it looked like the boy had already cleaned up the mess and was now silently sitting at his piano, staring blankly at his notes while his head hung low in fatigue.

He weren’t playing any music...and I didn’t even think Eddie had realized I was there yet. He just appeared rather...depressed. Emotionless. Like the life in his body was just...gone.

It was the first time I’d ever seen him like this, and it...well, it concerned me. 

What was goin’ on?

Slowly walking into the quiet room, the floor creaked underneath me as I cleared my throat and knocked on the doorframe, alerting him of my presence before leaning on a nearby wall.

I hesitated for a moment.

“...Erm...Eddie?” I called. “It’s me. I’m back.”

Almost instantly, the pianist turned around at the sound of his name and faced me, his expression covered in distress.

“Oh...Arthur!” Eddie greeted, his mood lightening with relief. “You’ve returned. Are you okay? Did anyone see you? Were you followed?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. What ‘bout you? Anything happen here while I was gone?”

“No,” he replied. “One lawman showed up to ask me what the gunshot was all about, but I managed to shoo him away with a made-up excuse.”

“Good,” I said, stepping next to the piano. “...Now, you mind tellin’ me just what exactly is going on here? What did that bastard want with you?”

Eddie turned back to the piano, mindlessly tracing his hand across the keys.

“It’s a long story,” he explained, “but basically...I owed Thatcher a lot of money.”

I chuckled, taking a seat beside him on the bench. 

“I guessed that. But...why was he after you? What is happening, Eddie? ...Who did I just kill?”

The musician let out a defeated sigh, clearly not comfortable with talking about this. 

“Listen, Arthur. I appreciate what you did for me today -- I really do -- but the last thing I want is to drag you into this mess. I can’t risk your safety as well as mine.”

I persisted.

“If you’re in some sorta trouble, Eddie, I wanna help.”

“I know,” he responded. “That’s what worries me. Though, I suppose...after the way you saved my life...you deserve to know the full story. If you’re willing to listen, of course.”

I nodded in an understanding manner. “I am.”

Eddie glanced away for a second and took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for my reaction. 

Just how bad was his situation, exactly?

“Well,” he began, “first things first, then. Eddie Ryan...isn’t my real name.”

Nice to see he was easin’ me into this.

“Then what is it?” I asked. The boy looked me in the eye, his gaze filled with both freedom and anxiety. It was like he was finally takin’ off a mask, but scared to see what I’d think of the person hiding behind it.

Eddie gulped. 

“...Theodore,” he confessed. “Theodore Bishop.”

I shrugged. “Maybe it’s just ‘cause I ain’t never been to England, but that name don’t really mean much to me. You a...fugitive or something? A wanted man?”

He quickly shook his head. “No! Nothing like that. In fact, I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just because of my father that I’m in this mess.”

I scoffed. “O’ course. It’s always the father, ain’t it? Believe me, I know what that feels like. But...what’d your daddy do?”

Eddie’s shoulders slouched a bit with calmness, and he didn’t appear as tense as before. I guessed he had been waitin’ for a while to get this off his chest.

“Well, when he was still alive, my father worked as a criminal. He always got involved with the local gangs in London despite my mother’s protests, and there was one man in particular that he befriended. A man named Atticus Rose. He’s a gang leader who originally came from America, actually.”

I quirked a brow. “That so?”

“Yeah. I don’t know too much about his past, but apparently Rose used to operate in a place called New Austin.”

I let out a soft laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. Even now, New Austin is next to lawless, and the word ‘civilization’ don’t even exist out there. Makes sense that someone like him would come outta that desert. But...you said your daddy befriended him?”

Eddie nodded. “Right. Or, at least, he thought he did. See, Atticus and my father were mates for years. Half a decade, I would estimate. They were almost like brothers. And despite being a criminal, Atticus always treated me with kindness. Though...it’s clear to me now that it was all just an act.”

I had to admit, that seemed like a bit much even to me.

“Wait, Rose pretended to be your father’s friend for half a decade...and it weren’t even real? Why?”

“Because my family had money,” Eddie replied. “And Rose wanted it. So, he got close to my father, bled him dry of all his wealth, and then...assassinated the man when he was done. Thing is, though: Atticus only planned to kill my father in the beginning.”

I readjusted myself on the bench. “What changed?”

“My father exposed him. That’s what. Just before he was murdered, my father managed to unveil Rose’s true intentions to me and my family, and told us to run. That’s why I came to America. But, of course, Atticus couldn’t let us get away. Loose ends, and all that. So, he sent Middleton to hunt us down. Another ‘good friend’ of my father’s.”

I glanced at the notch in the wall from where Thatcher’s knife stabbed through the wood, thinking back to the whole mess with him.

“But...Middleton didn’t kill you?”

“No,” Eddie confirmed. “And I don’t know why. That bastard killed my father, my mother, and my sister, but for some reason...he was willing to spare me. At least, in exchange for money. Still though, I always found it odd that he agreed to my deal. I may not have known Thatcher that well, but he never struck me as the kind of man to make exceptions.”

I let out a breath in place of the absence of words, unsure of how to even respond.

“I...don’t really know quite what to say,” I admitted. “I’m sorry you’re goin’ through all this, Eddie.”

The boy beamed at me, bringing back that smile I had grown to be so familiar with.

“Don’t be. I know you weren’t aware of who Thatcher was when you killed him...but you avenged my family, Arthur. Somewhat, anyways. After all, Atticus Rose still lives. And he’s the one who’s truly responsible.”

I leaned in slightly. “You think Rose will retaliate if he finds out Middleton’s dead? And you’re still breathing?”

Eddie’s expression dimmed with fear. “...It’s...certainly a possibility. I mean, Atticus doesn’t come across as the type of man to grow attached to his allies, but I know he and Middleton had a long history together. And on top of that, he wants everyone in my family dead. So, even though I doubt he’ll come after me personally, he could very well send another assassin.”

Without even thinking about it, I placed a comforting hand over Eddie’s and looked him in the eye, making him a sincere promise.

“Then I’ll kill another one.”

The pianist paused at that and met my gaze, the confidence steadily returning to his drained face once he realized he was safe around me. 

It was pretty obvious that it had been a long time since Eddie had anyone he could trust, and when he affectionately squeezed my hand in return, I instantly knew damn well that I wouldn’t be able to leave him behind like I kept sayin’ I would.

Christ, not again, you moron... I cursed to myself, scolding the hopeless romantic inside me.

I didn’t have the strength to do this for a third time. Not after how things went Mary. And Eliza.

...I just couldn’t handle that pain again. 

I couldn’t lose someone else.

Retreating my hand with a certain fear, I awkwardly backed away from the boy and put some distance between us, scooting towards the end of the bench as I stared helplessly at the floor. 

Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could still sense Eddie’s somewhat hurt gaze falling onto me, and I felt terrible for reactin’ the way I did. But...no matter how much I disliked it, it was for the best. 

Eddie’s life was already a disaster without me fanning the flames. The last thing he needed was for me to come crashin’ into his life, trying to play the hero when we both knew the boy was better off without a lowlife criminal dragging him down.

I finally decided to tear myself away from the man and reluctantly rose from the bench, still avoiding eye contact with the musician.

“I, um...” I stumbled over my words, suddenly feeling more alone than I had in months. “...I should get going. I won’t keep you any longer. ...Good day, Eddie.”

Fleeing from the scene without looking back, I rushed out of the house like there was no tomorrow and sped through the front doors, immediately mounting my horse the minute I saw her before sprinting back to camp.

I didn’t know what the hell just happened, or what I was so damned afraid of...but something in me just...broke back there. 

The way Eddie looked at me...I had seen that face enough times to know what it was. 

That poor fool was falling for me. Slowly, but surely. 

And like the selfish bastard I was...I was lettin’ him do it. 

God...why couldn’t I just push him away? I mean, sure it would hurt, but at least he’d be safe. And I’d be able to focus entirely on the gang. We’d just go our separate ways, and pretend the other person never even existed. I could’ve ended this, here and now.

...But I didn’t. 

Instead, I simply ran away like the coward I was and left with more questions than answers, hoping that Eddie would somehow forget about me and build a true career for himself now that Thatcher was dead.

I scoffed to myself, laughin’ at the dolt I was.

Geez...I had really gone and done it this time, hadn’t I? 

I just had to get involved, and bring on whatever storm was coming our way. 

Well, no matter what happened in the future, I would always stand by what I said to the pianist, and protect him regardless of how distant we was forced to be. 

Theodore Bishop may have had a price on his head, but that weren’t the man I knew. 

His name was Eddie Ryan...and I wasn’t letting anyone lay a finger on him ever again.

~~~~~~~~~~

ONE HOUR LATER

SHADY BELLE

Climbing off my horse, I hitched my companion with the rest of the gang’s mounts and gave her a friendly pat, feeding the girl a small treat before returning to my business.

Even with Karen and Grimshaw at each other’s necks again, things seemed mostly calm at camp, and it didn’t look like I had missed too much during my time away.

Javier was sittin’ at the campfire with his guitar while Uncle enjoyed a beer next to him, the two of ‘em singing songs as Pearson chopped away at some meat, preparing today’s stew.

Meanwhile, Mary-Beth and Tilly worked on their typical chores while enduring Swanson’s drunken ramblings, chatting to each other about the romance novels they was reading, and giggling at how silly the stories apparently were. Psh, if only they knew mine.

On top of all that though, Dutch and Hosea were keeping each other company on a balcony overlooking the camp as they discussed something -- probably the bank in Saint Denis -- while relaxing in the shade cast by the roof.

But...of course, outta all the people in the gang, the first one to greet me had to be the second grumpiest son-of-a-bitch to ever walk by our side.

“Hey, Morgan!” Bill’s sharp voice called as he paced towards me.

“...Williamson,” I said back in a blunt tone, lighting a cigarette. “What you want?”

The man studied me for a minute with that permanently sour face of his, eyeing me up and down.

“I wanted to ask you something.” He said. 

I was silent in response, urging him to go on.

“Back at the theater,” Bill recalled, “why’d you go soft on that boy? Y’know, the one who was holdin’ a gun to your head.”

I puffed out a cloud of smoke. “What you talkin’ about?

“I mean,” he reiterated, “what was that shit you was tryin’ to pull off with him? When I found you two, you were approaching him like some fool trying to tame a wild horse. Why didn’t you just beat him like you normally do?”

I furrowed my brow in annoyance, cocking my head to the side.

“You just answered your own question, dumbass. ‘Cause he was holdin’ a gun to my face. If I had done anything else, that boy woulda put a bullet between my eyes.”

Bill was unconvinced. “Oh, I doubt that. Look, Morgan, I know I ain’t the dullest tool in the shed--”

“--Sharpest.”

“Whatever. Point is: even I could tell that boy hadn’t shot no one before. And he sure as hell wouldn’t have shot you.”

I sighed. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. But -- why are we even arguin’ about this? What point are you trying to make?”

Bill gave me a cautionary glare. “I’m just saying, Morgan...it’s dangerous to make a move like that. That boy, whoever he was, nearly botched the entire robbery. If someone ever tries to do that again, we gotta beat ‘em down.”

I took a step towards Williamson, glaring directly back at him from under the rim of my hat as smoke danced from my cigarette.

“...I got it.” I whispered.

Bill backed down at that, unsure of what to say next.

Before he could do anything else though, I threw my cigarette to the ground and squished it under my boot, walkin’ away as if the conversation never happened.

Things was tense enough between me and Eddie. I didn’t need Bill to jump into the chaos with us. And Lord knew the pianist didn’t neither.

I was just concerned about what would happen if anyone in the gang actually met Eddie. I mean, Dutch was already suspicious that there was a rat among us. If he learned I was in contact with someone outside our little “family,” I could only imagine what his reaction would be. And I certainly didn’t want to find out for myself.

Regardless of the mayhem in his life, Eddie was the only person I knew who weren’t involved with this disaster. The only person who had yet to let this world’s struggles take him down. 

As for the rest of us...we were pretty much more ghosts than people. Just fightin’ to survive, but never actually living. And I sure as hell didn’t want Eddie to become like that.

His previous life as Theodore Bishop sounded harsh enough. The least I coulda done for the boy...was ensure no harm came to him in this one.

Especially not from me.


	9. Harmony

From Arthur’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

SAINT DENIS

What the hell was I doing? I scolded myself, smoking on a cigarette.

Here I was, standin’ in front of the Râleur like a lost puppy and wasting time thinking about how I was gonna smooth things over with Eddie when I shoulda been helping Dutch formulate a plan for the upcoming gala.

I already told myself I weren’t gonna see that boy no more. Sure, I liked him. And I wanted more than anything to be with him...but it wasn’t safe for Eddie to be around me.

I mean, Jesus-- I had only known the pianist for less than a week, and already he’d witnessed me kill someone.

If that wasn’t a red flag that our relationship was a dangerous one, then I didn’t know what was.

I just...couldn’t bring myself to ignore him. No matter what I did. He was always on my mind; always distracting me from the things I should’ve been attending to. Hell, even Williamson could see that Eddie was clouding my judgement.

As much as I hated to admit it, Bill did have a point about the theater job.

Had that been anyone else holdin’ a gun to my face, I would’ve knocked them out cold before they had a chance to do anything. But with Eddie...

...I just froze. There was even a moment when I forgot I had the option of using my gun.

Even though he didn’t know it was me, every fiber in my being went against the idea of layin’ a single finger on that boy, and I absolutely refused to hurt him despite the risk of botching the entire robbery.

I couldn’t lie. Eddie had a special place in my heart. And that made him dangerous.

I only prayed he would never take advantage of it. And if he did...well, at least I’d go down for the sake of not hurtin’ someone I cared about. For once.

Tossing the cigarette to the ground, I stubbed it out under my boot and squished it into the pavement, bracing myself before entering the theater.

Eddie wasn’t at his house, so he must’ve been here. And on top of that, it also appeared as if he’d taken in Thatcher’s orphaned mount. I spotted the big boy hitched near a streetlamp, and it looked like Eddie had kept Middleton’s weapons for himself. The beauty of inheritance, I supposed.

To be honest, I was surprised the pianist actually managed to tame a war horse like this one. The beast was practically twice my height, and I didn’t even wanna imagine what it felt like to be kicked by him. One of his legs had more strength than my entire body, and I’d seen enough fellers get a hoof to the head to know how much damage it could cause. I guessed Eddie was better with horses than I thought.

Taking a deep breath, I finally decided to go inside while the day was still young and pushed my way through the front doors, suddenly being flooded by a wave of memories as I walked in.

Despite its style being a bit too sumptuous for my liking, the theater had a certain charm to it when it wasn’t being robbed, and I couldn’t deny that I wouldn’t mind seeing a show or two here.

It was no wonder why Eddie enjoyed performing at the Râleur so much. There were ornamental decorations on the walls, fancy lights to spruce the place up, and I even recalled there bein’ a bar somewhere in here. I’d definitely have to check that out.

“Good morning, sir.” The ticket clerk greeted. It was a different guy. Not that I was surprised.

“There are no shows available at the moment,” he apologized. “I’m afraid the theater’s still recovering from that awful robbery. But why don’t you check in some other day? I’d be happy to help you out, then.”

I walked up to him. “Actually, I’m here to visit one of the performers. Is Edward Ryan here?”

“Sure is. Always a pleasure when he comes in to practice. Much more bearable standing here all day when I get to listen to his music.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Well, go on in and see him. He should be just inside those double-doors.”

I nodded, taking my leave. “Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Strolling into the main area of the theater, I was greeted by quite a magnificent sight as well as some classical piano music to add to the mood.

All around me, I saw seats everywhere. Probably enough to fit a couple hundred people. And the stage was pretty impressive, too.

There was a row of spotlights shining underneath it, and a tall, red curtain draped elegantly over its surface. It was drawn at the moment, but I was willing to bet that it looked beautiful when let down.

But of course, the thing that caught my attention the most...was Eddie himself.

The boy was currently losing himself in a song, and his body seemed to sway with the gentle rhythm, almost like the notes were carrying him as he played. It reminded me of the first time I met him.

As for the piano, this one was much larger than the one he had at home, and the vast space of the theater only helped to carry its eloquent sounds.

I could definitely see the appeal of watching Eddie perform now, and part of me felt guilty for ruining his show the other night. Perhaps I could make it up to him by helping the pianist prepare another one. I just wish I knew how to.

Sauntering up to the stage, I hesitated for a moment and thought about what I was going to say while Eddie continued to play, completely unaware of my presence.

He always looked so at peace whenever accompanied by a piano. There wasn’t a single hint of concern on his face, or a sign of worry. It was like he had just shut the rest of the world out, and had completely relieved himself of all struggles. I wished I could do that.

Steeling myself, I wandered over to the edge of the stage -- just next to where Eddie was positioned -- and rested my elbow on its surface, leaning casually against it.

“That’s a nice song,” I said, causing the music to come to a pause. “It’s good to see you playin’ again.”

Glancing around for a second, Eddie checked both sides for the source of the voice before looking downwards, his expression immediately glowing with joy the minute his eyes landed on me.

“Arthur!” He exclaimed happily, springing up from his seat as I joined him on the stage. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. How’d you find me?”

I gestured outside the theater. “Well, when you wasn’t at your house, I figured you’d be here. Only two places in Saint Denis I know to find you.”

He beamed at me. “And you’d be correct.”

I took a few steps towards him, acting like an awkward idiot as I tried to make conversation.

“I, ah...heard about the robbery. I’m real sorry, Eddie. I wish there was somethin’ I could do to help.”

Eddie shook his head. “You have done more than enough to help, Arthur. And besides, it’s not all bad. Did you see I took in Thatcher’s horse?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “I saw the beast outside. He’s got a wild look in his eyes. You give him a new name?”

The pianist smiled proudly.

“Bullet.”

“Bullet?” I repeated.

“He’s about as fast as one,” Eddie explained. “And as strong.”

I grinned at that. “...I like it. And I think he will, too.”

He chuckled. “Hopefully. I don’t want to be bucked off by a horse like him.”

I returned the laugh. “No, sir.”

Noticing my sheepish mood, Eddie decided to change the subject and switched to a more comforting tone, cocking his head to the side out of curiosity.

“Is everything alright, Arthur?” He checked. “You said you were looking for me at my house?”

I cleared my throat, stumblin’ over my words like the dolt I was. “Oh, um-- yeah. I was.”

Eddie’s eyes flicked side-to-side. “...And?”

I was quiet for a second, attempting to gather my thoughts.

This was it, I told myself. This was the moment I’d finally end things between us, and somehow tell the boy to stay the hell away from me. It was gonna hurt, and I weren’t ready for it...but it had to be done.

I took a breath. “...I...I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

He raised a brow. “Sorry? For what?”

“For runnin’ off the way I did.”

The memory came back to him. “Yes...you left in quite a hurry yesterday. Are you okay? I hope I didn’t scare you off with everything I told you.”

“No, no,” I hurriedly replied. “It weren’t that. It weren’t...you. I just...”

My voice faltered into silence once again, and I gave him a quick glance before staring at the floor out of embarrassment, chuckling to myself.

“Oh, you know me, Eddie. I ain’t got much of a way with words. I’m-- I think-- goddammit.”

I sighed out of irritation and turned away from the boy, shaking my head.

Why couldn’t I say it? What was so damned hard about expressin’ the way I felt? Why did I always feel like a toddler learning how to talk for the first time around Eddie?

I was such a clumsy fool.

“...Look,” I said, my tone a bit more firm. “I like you, Eddie. I do. Even though I really shouldn’t. But despite all that...I think it’s best if we keep our distance from each other. I ain’t a safe man to be around, and the last thing I want is to put you in harm’s way. I mean -- you was there for the whole Thatcher incident. You saw the things I did. What I’m capable of.”

My sudden change in mood caught him off-guard.

“What are you talking about?” He questioned. “You were defending yourself. Sure, it was chaos, but neither of us really had a choice. It’s not as if you murdered Thatcher in cold blood. Hell, if anyone was going to be murdered, it was me. But I’m still alive. Thanks to you.”

I conceded his point. “That’s...one way to look at it. I just wish you didn’t have to see that. All that violence, and death...it ain’t a pleasant thing to witness. Not to mention you had to help clean up the damned mess.”

Eddie shrugged. “Better to clean Middleton’s blood instead of my own.”

“That’s true.”

Without even giving me a chance to react, Eddie stepped closer to me and grabbed both my hands, holding them softly as he looked me in the eye.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Arthur,” he reassured. “You’ve already helped me so much within these past few days, and I’ll always be thankful. No one has ever treated me like you do. I’m...I’m glad to have you by my side.”

For a minute, I simply stood there and returned his gaze, taking in everything he just said as my rough hands tightened around his. A sense of affection had suddenly taken over me, and despite how much I kept remindin’ myself to just cut ties with him, the words wouldn’t come outta my mouth.

What was wrong with me? Was I seriously ignoring my responsibilities with the gang for some boy I had only known for a few days? And putting his safety at risk in the process? Like some...love-struck kid? I couldn’t believe it.

I wanted Eddie, it was true. I wanted him more than anything right now.

But I was an outlaw. A killer. I had a price on my head, for God’s sake. There was bounty hunters and lawmen hurdling their way over five different states just to catch me, and I was busy playin’ Romeo and Juliet with some boy.

Not to mention there was always the chance Eddie wasn’t really who he claimed to be. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe his story about Theodore Bishop, or that I didn’t trust him, but lookin’ at it from a logical perspective...this pianist could’ve been quite literally anyone.

His whole story about his family being assassinated by Middleton could’ve been a complete lie...and like the moron I was, I coulda been fallin’ for it.

But...against my better judgement, I trusted Eddie. I did. And I’d have to trust him to understand why I couldn’t allow him to be near me. I hated that I had to repay his kindness like this, but it was the reality of the world we lived in. And we both knew reality never wasted any time in wakin’ us up.

The best I could do...was dream while I had the chance.

Finally mustering the courage to do what I came here for, I pulled my hands away and opened my mouth to speak...but as the case always was with Eddie, my words jumbled up in my throat before I could actually say them.

I let out an irritated sigh, cursing myself.

“Jesus, Eddie...” I whispered in a flustered manner.

Eddie smirked playfully, seeming to finally understand what I was feeling.

“Arthur,” he said, unable to hide the grin on his face, “are you...are you infatuated with me?”

I paused, whirling around in confusion. “...In-what?”

The musician laughed. “I’m asking if you’re...you know...attracted to me.”

I scratched the back of my head, avoiding all eye contact as my cheeks began to feel hot.

“I dunno,” I mumbled grumpily. “Maybe.”

That only made him smirk more. “Oh, really? Is that why you’re ‘maybe’ blushing?”

“Shut up.”

Eddie giggled. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur. I’m...actually glad to hear it.”

My mood lit up at that. “You are?”

“Yes,” he answered, growing somewhat flustered himself. “And...it might please you to know that...the feeling’s mutual.”

My confusion didn’t disappear at all. “...It is?”

Eddie chuckled at my bewilderment and reached for my hands once again, attempting to ease my nerves.

“Relax, Arthur. ...I swear, I’ve never seen you so embarrassed.”

I took a second to recompose myself before letting out a soft laugh, completely in disbelief at how much of an imbecile I was being.

“I-I’m sorry--”

“--And stop saying ‘sorry.” He added, peering over at the piano as his eyes twinkled with an idea. I instantly picked up on it.

“You’re thinkin’ about something.”

Eddie smiled at me and let go of my hands, taking a seat at the piano’s bench before patting the empty space next to him.

I glanced around in uncertainty and pointed to myself.

“You want me to...?”

He shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?”

I chuckled out of doubt. “Oh, I dunno ‘bout that. I ain’t much of a musician.”

“It’s only a piano,” he convinced me. “It can’t be more dangerous than a gun.”

I sighed in defeat. “...Fair enough.”

Roaming towards the piano, I awkwardly sat down next to Eddie and tried my best not to slip off due to the limited space, suddenly regretting ever agreeing to this.

I gestured blindly at the instrument. “So, uh...what do I...”

Eddie took one of my hands and positioned it over a specific set of keys, pushing my fingers in place just like I did when teaching him how to shoot a gun.

“Lay your hand out like this,” he instructed. “And make sure it’s flat. I remember when I was first starting to learn, I’d always place coins on the back of my hands.”

A thought struck me. “...Where did you learn how to play the piano?”

Eddie smiled fondly, reminiscing back to when he was just a child.

“My grandfather taught me,” he answered. “When I was a kid, my family would visit my grandparents occasionally...and every time we went to their house, I always took an interest in the piano there. At first, I merely played around with it. Never really made a tune, or a melody. But one day, my grandfather decided to teach me how to play it properly. And...after he passed, my grandmother gifted the piano to me. Didn’t want to let it gather dust, she said.”

The musician’s normally optimistic expression suddenly sank with sorrow at the thought of his family, and for a moment, he reverted to the same Eddie I saw sitting quietly at his piano after Thatcher was killed.

I quickly broke the silence, hoping to bring him out of this mood.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Eddie,” I apologized. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, no. It’s alright,” he assured. “It’s just...I wasn’t there, you know. When Thatcher killed my family. I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye, or a chance to help them. I just ran...like the coward I am.”

I stopped him right there. “Now, hold on -- that ain’t fair. You’re many things, Eddie, but you’re not a coward. Everything I’ve seen of you is evidence to the contrary. You saved my life when you shot Thatcher. Would a coward have done that?”

The pianist let out a breath. “Plenty of cowards with guns out there, Arthur.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “And you shot one.”

Eddie processed what I just said, his tone lightening up slightly.

“...I suppose I did.”

The strength returned to the musician’s face at the thought and he brought his focus back to the piano, his hand still resting on top of mine as he made a short promise to himself.

“Well, whatever I did in the past,” Eddie began, “I’m never running again. From anything. I promise.”

I looked at the boy in pride, admiring the courage he carried.

“Good. I know better than anyone that runnin’ never solves your problems. Only makes the trip back longer when you finally decide to confront it.”

Eddie nodded in approval. “That it does.” He suddenly cleared his throat, returning his attention to the instrument. “Erm-- anyways, why don’t I show you how to play a little song?”

I laughed. “You can try.”

“It’s not as difficult as it seems,” he said with a grin. “Just follow my lead.”

Pressing my fingers down one-by-one, Eddie began to move my hand in a sequence like a puppet on strings, repeating it enough times for me to memorize it.

“Just do that over and over again. At that pace. Not too hard, yeah?”

I shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“Have some faith, Arthur.”

I rolled my eyes, letting out a playful groan. “Christ, you sound exactly like someone I know.”

Eddie chuckled. “That so? Who?”

“I...suppose you could call him my father,” I answered. “We ain’t related, but he did raise me after my real daddy died. Ever since I was just a kid.”

“What’s his name?”

I hesitated, quickly coming up with something. “...Tacitus. Tacitus Kilgore.”

“That’s quite a name.” Eddie commented, sounding impressed.

“Well, he’s quite a man.”

“Clearly. He raised you.”

I chortled. “True enough.”

“Anyways,” the pianist placed his own hand on the piano not too far away from mine, “you ready to try this out? You start playing first, and then I’ll join in afterwards. It’ll sound much better when our melodies are entwined.”

“...Alright,” I said. “I’d just like to apologize in advance for what you’re about to hear.”

He scoffed amusingly. “You’ll be fine.”

Starting on Eddie’s queue, I rehearsed the tune he showed me, struggling to keep the same beat as my clumsy fingers recited a melody that was just barely decent.

By itself, my part sounded rather lonely so far. It was just three notes repeatin’ themselves in the same rhythm, again and again and again -- and to make it worse, I was the one playing it. Was I even doin’ this right?

After about four times of repeating the tune, Eddie joined me and began his part, adding a complex, higher-pitched touch to the song.

Now, the main melody of the composition was much more prominent, and as the two of us carried on with the song, the more comfortable I started to feel with the piano.

Eddie was right. It...actually wasn’t as difficult as I was expecting it to be. I mean, yeah, he had given me what was probably the easiest tune to play out there, but the movement wasn’t as awkward as I pictured.

Contrary to what I thought was gonna happen, my hand actually seemed to loosen up over the course of the song and grew more accustomed to the piano every time I repeated my part.

By now, the composition was significantly more fluent, and when Eddie decided to be a showoff and add a third part to it, it truly sounded amazing.

Throughout the entire theater, notes from all different ranges could be heard chiming from the piano, and yet...they all seemed to fit together perfectly.

It was...almost like me and Eddie in a strange way.

Just one week ago, I would’ve never imagined that I’d be falling in love with a man like him. Usually, the artists I encountered were either outta their damned minds, or were fallin’ off cliffs just to get a photograph of a bird.

But Eddie...the only thing I saw in him was passion. He didn’t make music for money, or for the attention. He did his job because he loved it. It was his way of tellin’ a story that everyone could understand, and that just drew me to him even more.

He was an artist just like any other. Only, he didn’t paint on a canvas. He painted in people’s minds.

Coming to a stop, Eddie steadily ended his part as it gradually slowed down while I continued mine just the same, both of us suddenly realizing that we didn’t say a single word to each other during the entire song.

It was as if we just wandered into on our own, little worlds, and completely forgot that this one still existed. As weird as it may’ve sounded...I actually enjoyed that feeling. It was the same feeling I got whenever I drew, and I never expected a piano, out of all things, to deliver it as well.

I guessed that saying was true. Life was full of surprises -- my success in playing that song without messin’ up being the biggest one.

“Not so bad, is it?” Eddie said, noticing the bliss on my face.

“No,” I agreed. “It certainly ain’t. That was...that was fun. Thank you for showin’ me that.”

The boy’s expression glowed with appreciation. “I only wish I could show you more. But...as you know, the theater’s dangerously low on funds, and we can’t host another show without more money.”

“There’s no other way to raise money?” I asked.

“Well, we sent our singer Robin to perform in the streets. And Hortensia’s with her, too. That’s the woman who can bend metal. If they’re lucky, they’ll get a few donations.”

Without even thinking about it, I reached into my satchel and fumbled through the bag, yanking out as much money as I could find.

I handed the cash to Eddie. “Here. Take this. It’s all I got on me.”

He politely refused it. “I-I can’t accept this, Arthur.”

Grabbing one of his hands, I placed the money in his palm regardless of his protests and closed his fist around it, sincerely looking him in the eye.

“Well, you’re gonna have to. ‘Cause you’re takin’ it. You need this much more than I do. And I can always make more, anyway.”

Eddie silently stared at the money sitting in his hand, entirely at a loss for words.

“I...I don’t know what to say, Arthur.”

“Don’t say anything. Just put on a good show for these folks, alright?”

The pianist smiled tenderly at me, his gaze radiating with hope as he finally gave in and stored the money in his pocket, making sure it was secure before turning back to me.

“...Thank you, Arthur.”

Out of nowhere, Eddie suddenly leaned forward and planted a brief but loving kiss on my cheek, causing me to freeze with surprise as my face turned red again.

I knew I should’ve told him to stop, or pushed him away, or rejected the kiss...but I couldn’t. No matter how much I should have.

This was everything I wanted, and the selfish part of me just couldn’t let go.

I couldn’t let go of Eddie.

Letting out a bashful laugh in place of words, I smiled back at the boy and stood up from the bench, starting to make my way out of the theater as he followed me.

“I’m afraid you’re still too smart for me, Eddie.”

The musician didn’t buy it. “You can masquerade as the big, dumb brute all you want, Arthur. I know there’s an artist in there somewhere. I just wish he’d step out more often.”

I sighed in a regretful way, the both of us heading out the double-doors.

“Me too.”

“But he can’t,” Eddie continued, somehow knowing exactly how I was feeling. “I understand. After all, conformity is our only promise of safety in this world. Civilization condemns the very diversity it thrives off of.”

I glanced back at the man before exiting through the front doors. “Sounds like you’ve had personal experience.”

“A lot of people have. More than you think.”

I switched to a more serious tone. “...Now ain’t that the truth. Well...I had fun with you today, Eddie. Thanks again for...all that piano business.”

Eddie walked me out the door. “And thank you for the donation. You truly are a good man, Arthur. I mean it.”

I grinned at the man. “You’d be one of the few. Anyway, goodbye, Eddie. I hope everythin’ works out with the theater.”

“So do I. But if we manage to put on another show, I’d love to see you attend.”

I considered the offer. “Let me know when it happens, and I’ll be there.”

Eddie turned on his heel and started to wander back inside the building, waving a quick goodbye to me as horses and stagecoaches rode along behind me.

“Well, until then...farewell, Arthur. Stay safe. You’re a much better person than you believe...and don’t you dare forget that. Because if you do, I’ll be the first one to remind you.”

I chuckled softly and returned the wave, mounting my horse as I finally forced myself to part ways with the pianist, disappearing into the crowded streets of Saint Denis.

“Oh, I know. After all, you’re the reason I am.”


	10. A Rose's Thorns

From Arthur’s POV

A WHILE LATER

SAINT DENIS

Walking out of the general store, I stepped back into the crowded, smoke-ridden streets of Saint Denis as the shopkeeper called out a quick goodbye, his bored voice cutting off once the door shut closed behind me.

Even though it had been quite some time since I left the theater, I still couldn’t stop thinkin’ about that kiss Eddie gave me, and I had to admit: it felt nice to experience that sorta fondness again.

I knew as well as the next man how this would most-likely end up, and the very thought of it killed me inside...but it’d been so long since I was last in a relationship like this. And the thrill drew me like a moth to a flame. 

Good God, I really was an idiot.

Had I learned nothin’ from my time with Mary? Or Eliza? Was I truly that big of a moron to believe I could have a normal love life, and be an outlaw at the same time?

Good things never happened in a life like mine. I knew that. Though...I was lucky enough to meet Eddie, so perhaps it were possible. But the realist in me knew better.

Strollin’ up to my horse, I quickly fed her one of the treats I just purchased and gave her a comforting pat, thinking about Eddie’s new steed, Bullet.

How that boy managed to tame an Ardennes when he had barely any experience with horses was beyond me, but the pianist seemed to like him well enough. And I didn’t imagine Bullet missed Thatcher at all. My only concern at the moment was if anyone else did. 

I mean, the way Eddie described him...it sounded like Middleton was rather close with this Atticus feller. And even though I didn’t exactly know Atticus well enough to make any judgements, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if Thatcher’s death was only the beginning.

After all, I had seen the damage grief could cause to even the strongest of men. And I had seen the same men driven to madness by a need for vengeance, forever chasin’ the peace they’d already destroyed. 

If Thatcher meant anything to Atticus...well, I was willin’ to wager there’d be a good chance he might try to retaliate. I only prayed that, whoever this Mister Rose was, would be smarter than that.

I supposed we would just have to wait and see.

Storing my belongings in my horse’s saddlebag, I shut the flap closed and prepared to leave, suddenly being greeted by a familiar voice just before I could mount up.

It was Dutch.

“There you are!” The man exclaimed from behind me, leading me to glance over my shoulder. As always, the man had a cigar in his grasp, and his lips were permanently stuck in a mischievous grin to match the twinkle in his eyes. 

What was he plannin’ now?

“I’ve been tryin’ to catch you, son,” Dutch said. “But you been in and outta camp before I even have the chance to say hello!”

I chuckled, turning around to face him. “Ah, I’m sorry, Dutch. I been busy lately.”

He returned the laugh. “That’s good. We need as much money as we can obtain. But I wanted to discuss that gala you’ve been investigating. Any progress?”

I nodded. “Believe it or not, I managed to charm one of the people hostin’ it. A certain Miss Lillian Powell. Wretched woman, but she said she’d arrange an invitation for me. I’ve also been helping out a pianist from the Râleur who’s plannin’ to perform at the gala.”

Dutch seemed pleased. “You befriended a performer from the theater we just robbed? Ha! Good work, Arthur. Would they mind if you brought a few...‘friends’ along?”

“I don’t think so.” I replied.

“Excellent. Got anyone particular in mind? You’re the one been lookin’ into this, so I think it’s best if you take the reins on this one.”

I thought about it for a moment.

“Well, I think you should come. Hosea, too. This seems like his type o’ thing.”

Dutch agreed. “Oh, absolutely. That old boy will have the time of his life at this gala.”

“Oh -- and also,” I said, suddenly remembering something. “As far as the people in this gala are concerned, your name is Tacitus Kilgore.”

He smirked. “Of course. I’ll keep that in mind. Well,” Dutch wrapped his arm around my shoulder, “how’s about you and I head back to camp and prepare for this gathering? I’ve been conducting my own ‘investigation,’ and apparently the event’s tomorrow night. It’s being held at the estate of that ‘wretched woman’ you mentioned. Though...we should probably get you a proper suit, first.”

I paused, giving him a look of dread. 

“...Dutch, please don’t--”

The other man guffawed, guiding me to the tailor as he gently pushed me on the back, enjoying my annoyance far too much. 

“Relax, Mister Morgan! You’ll only look ridiculous for one night. That’s worth some cash, isn’t it? And besides, it can’t get any worse than what you wore to the theater.”

I let out a sigh, not looking forward at all to what was about to come. Not only did I despise wearin’ those incredibly itchy suits, I also weren’t eager to see Eddie’s reaction. That man handled elegance like an inborn talent, while I had the grace of Reverend Swanson after a bottle of wine. Maybe my suit would be enough to distract him from it.

“Just...no masks this time.” I said. 

Dutch chuckled lowly.

“Oh, you should know better than that, Arthur,” he teased. “Out of all people... we wear masks more than anyone.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE FOLLOWING NIGHT

POWELL RESIDENCE

Stepping out of the stagecoach, Dutch, Hosea, and I approached the Powell manor in unison as the driver rode off, leaving us to our own devices while other guests chatted gleefully around us. 

I had to say -- even though I weren’t really the type of man to appreciate galas, this place was certainly impressive in its own, ostentatious way...and some part of me found it to be strangely beautiful.

The men and women attending the party were all dressed in attire worth more than the manor itself, and everywhere I turned, I saw nothing but a sea of suits and bright, frilly gowns, accompanied by the occasional servant slithering around as they offered drinks to people.

There were flamboyant lights illuminating the estate, musicians performing all sorts of songs, and of course, long, clothed tables with a diverse array of snacks that had already attracted many guests. Miss Powell definitely didn’t hold back on this gala. I just hoped the money would be good.

A sense of guilt stung my mind at the thought, and I almost convinced myself to leave when I remembered just exactly who had gotten me in here.

It was bad enough that I robbed Eddie’s money from the theater, but now I was also takin’ advantage of his invitation and robbing the gala as well. And worst of all, he didn’t even know I was doing it.

I was foolin’ this poor boy into believing I was his friend, when in reality, I was the reason his life was gonna start going downhill very soon.

Jesus. Part of me kinda hoped we would get caught, just for his sake.

“...Name?” The man at the front asked me in a flat tone, clearly not enjoying himself.

“Arthur Morgan,” I answered. “These fellers are with me.”

He quickly checked my name on the list, barely looking at me before allowing us entry.

“Go on in, sir.”

Walking through the manor, I hurriedly adjusted my suit as Dutch and Hosea followed me inside, the three of us gazing around in wonder at the thick crowds of people.

“Well,” Dutch said, “here we are, gentlemen. We made it.”

“Let’s empty some pockets first,” Hosea reminded, “and then we’ll consider it a success. I’m going to have a look around, see if there’s anyone worth robbing here. Shouldn’t be too hard. Seems like the alcohol’s already dulled their senses somewhat.”

“Sounds good,” Dutch replied. “In the meantime, I’ll...acquaint myself with these fine folk. Try and get some more tips. The bank’s a good spot to hit, but we need an alternative source o’ money, in case things go south. What about you, Arthur?”

Just before I could respond, I was interrupted as another voice replaced mine, bringing all our attention to a guest who was kind enough to personally greet us.

“Arthur! Is that you, mate?”

Glancing to my side, I spotted none other than Eddie himself waltzing up to us as we entered the courtyard, his expression radiant as always.

The boy looked better than the three of us combined. He was dressed in a black three-piece suit along with a decorative chain, and his already neat hair appeared even more styled than usual. Well, he was one hell of a sight for sore eyes.

“There he is,” I greeted back, admittedly feelin’ somewhat embarrassed to be caught in this suit. “It’s good to see you, Eddie.”

The pianist smiled. “And you, Arthur. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you’d show up tonight. I know these sort of gatherings aren’t really your cup of tea. Or mine, actually.”

I chuckled. “Oh, you know I can’t say no to you, Mister Ryan.”

Eddie brought his focus to Dutch and Hosea, eager to meet the mysterious friends I had dragged along with me.

“Who are your friends?”

I glanced at the two of them, gesturing in their direction with an introductory hand as I tried to process the entire situation.

Here I was, introducing one of the most notorious outlaws in America to the man I had spent the past week falling in love with...and neither of them even knew who the other truly was. 

What a mad world we lived in.

“This is the man I mentioned yesterday,” I explained, looking at Dutch. “Tacitus Kilgore.”

Dutch tipped his hat in a friendly manner. “Nice to meet you.”

“And this,” I turned to Hosea, struggling to think of a name for him, “this is--”

“--Aiden O’Malley.” The old man quickly said, instantly picking up on my hesitance.

I let out a subtle breath of relief, now gesturing to Eddie. “Gentlemen, this is Edward Ryan. A friend I met recently.”

Eddie shook both of their hands. “Pleasure to meet you two. Saint Denis is treating you well, I trust?”

“Better than you think.” Dutch responded with his signature grin.

“That’s good to hear. I know things have been somewhat chaotic lately, especially with the recent robbery. But I hope you enjoy tonight’s gala, at least. It’s one of the grandest ones this year.”

Hosea gently laughed. “That much is evident.”

“Well, I won’t keep you gentlemen any longer. Enjoy the evening! Oh, and Arthur-- come find me later, would you?”

I nodded. “O’ course.”

Taking his leave, Eddie returned to his place in the gala as the seemingly inescapable Miss Powell latched onto him once again, clinging to the boy like a fish on a hook. Meanwhile, Dutch and Hosea went right back to scheming the minute Eddie was out of earshot and spoke in hushed tones, checking to make sure no one was listening.

“Okay, boys,” Dutch murmured. “Let’s get to work. Hosea, you start searching for pockets to pick. I’ll see if I can’t pry any secrets out of these bastards. As for you, Arthur, you should probably head over to your friend. Keep him distracted from us. We look conspicuous enough as is.”

“You got it, Dutch.”

“Good. Now, remember, this is just like the theater. We wanna attract as little attention as possible. Our guns stay holstered. No shootin’ unless absolutely necessary.”

“Understood.” Hosea said. 

Dutch’s grin grew even wider.

“...Then let’s get the goddamn money we came for.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Squeezing my way through the clumps of people, I hastily strode over to Eddie who was enjoying a drink in a nearby gazebo, doing his best to endure Lillian’s drunken ramblings. 

I didn’t know why...but with every step I took in this stuffy gala, the more I had the ominous feelin’ someone was watching me. 

I couldn’t quite pinpoint who, or from where, but somethin’ about this place just seemed...off. Like we wasn’t the only ones sneaking around. I really hoped that weren’t the case, and that I was just being paranoid...but the thought was still there.

“...Did I ever tell you I fell in love with a musician, once?” Lillian slurred out, leaning against the gazebo’s fence as she tried her best to keep her balance. “He was...Frrrench...I believe. Had a way with the...cello. They’re quite romantic, y’know. Those Frenchmen. Not like the men here. All I see here isss...little boys...! No respect for women...or for love. Only thing they waaant...is sex! Well, I don’t need sex. Not from these...pigs. I just need cocaine.”

Eddie took a sip of his champagne, not exactly sure how to reply.

“That, err...sounds rough. I’m sorry to hear it.”

Miss Powell let out a high-pitched laugh, playfully slapping Eddie on the chest.

“Oh, don’t feel sorry for me, daaarling...I have you, don’t I...? And you’re far better than...aaany Frenchmen out there. My, if you were just a few years older...I’d--”

“--Eddie!” I called out, briskly coming to his rescue. The pianist’s shoulders slouched in relief.

“Arthur!” he exclaimed, practically forgetting Lillian was even there. “Good of you to join us.”

The woman threw a lazy glare at me, placing a defiant hand on her hip.

“Ah. The cowboy. You keep shhh...owing up everywhere.”

I shrugged. “Well, unfortunately, you did invite me here, Miss Powell.”

Her face scrunched in confusion. “I did? ...Oh. I did. Well, I’ll leave you boys to it, then. Come find me again, Eddie, if you want to talk to someone interesting.”

Wobbling her way out of the gazebo, Lillian ventured back into the clusters of guests as he searched for someone else to keep her company, leaving me and Eddie alone as the gala carried on.

The boy seemed much more relaxed now that Miss Powell was gone, and that delightful smile had returned to his face...but I couldn’t say I felt the same.

Even though nothin’ had technically happened yet, I still couldn’t shake the suspicion that someone was following me around. So far, I hadn’t actually caught anyone tailing me through the crowd, and things appeared peaceful enough, but I could just sense this third, unwanted presence lingering about. 

It put me on edge, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Dutch and Hosea felt the same thing.

“Arthur,” Eddie said happily, pullin’ me outta my thoughts. “You look...”

I glanced down at my suit. “Ridiculous?”

“Actually, I was going to say you look handsome. You clean up well.” Eddie paused for a second. “...Y’know, this is my first time ever seeing you in a suit.”

I chortled, winking at him. “And it’ll be the last.”

The musician chuckled in response and rested his elbows on the fence, gazing at the eerie moon hovering above as he sighed out of serenity.

“...Listen, Arthur. I wanted to thank you again for the money you donated to the theater. It helped immensely. Your money combined with the donations Robin and Hortensia brought in actually raised enough funds for us to host another show.”

I took a spot next to Eddie, our shoulders just inches apart.

“That’s great,” I replied. “You hostin’ it anytime soon?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “The end of next week, actually. I’d love it if you came. Hell, I’ll even give you free entry. It’s the least I can do...after everything you’ve done.”

I waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, you don’t have to do that. But, I’d be happy to attend. I...” my voice faltered out of bashfulness, “...I enjoy watchin’ you perform.”

Eddie playfully nudged me. “Perhaps you can perform with me.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, no. You ain’t talkin’ me into that again, boy. I got plenty of other ways to embarrass myself.”

He snickered. “You’re really not as bad as you think.”

“Heh. Well, if a professional pianist thinks I have skill in music, I won’t question it.”

Eddie switched to a more sincere tone. “...I was talking about you as a person.”

That statement took me by surprise, causing me to fall silent as I tried to process what I just heard. 

Eddie continued when I didn’t say anything.

“You’re always speaking so lowly of yourself and yet, I’d argue that you’re one of the noblest men I’ve met out here. Not just anyone would risk their own safety to save another man’s life. Or empty their pocket just so a theater could stay in business. In fact, most people wouldn’t. So I mean it when I say you have a heart of gold, Arthur. Maybe not in your eyes, but that’s how I see it.”

A bit overwhelmed by the compliments, I shuffled through my thoughts and blankly stared at the grass below, its blades softly rustling in the cool, night breeze as I tilted my head at Eddie.

“...I don’t know quite what to say,” I admitted, struggling to find the right words. “I...I done some real bad things in my life, Eddie. Things that didn’t need doing. Hurt people that didn’t need hurting. I know it ain’t right, and I wish I weren’t always so angry, but...I’m...I’m a--”

“--I know,” Eddie interrupted with a smirk, resting his hand on top of mine. “A clumsy fool.”

I nodded with a soft chuckle, patting his hand affectionately. “That I am.”

Mindlessly leaning my body towards the boy, the both of us found ourselves entranced with each other as we slowly inched closer together, completely shutting out the world around us.

At the moment, no one else was around. The rest of the guests were busy either drinkin’ or arguing in the main area of the courtyard, and the only thing to accompany me and Eddie was the classical music swaying in the background.

It wasn’t the most romantic place to have a first kiss -- and I could only imagine what would happen if Dutch or Hosea walked in on us -- but it definitely weren’t the worst neither.

I brought a hand to Eddie’s cheek, gently caressing his face. 

Just before we could carry on however, my eyes flicked upward to a nearby rooftop when I finally spotted the unknown “presence” that had been followin’ me around this whole time, my heart coming to a halt when I noticed the Rolling Block rifle in the figure’s hand...

...and that it was aimed directly at Eddie.

I immediately whipped out my revolver, aiming for the assassin without a second thought.

“GET DOWN!”

Pulling the trigger while Eddie took cover, I fired a bullet straight into the man’s head with a deafening bang, causing his blood to spray out the back of his skull as panicked shrieks emitted from the crowds.

Mayhem instantly commenced, showering the entire estate in chaos.

“ASSASSINS!” One guest screamed, leading everyone else to start sprinting out of the gala.

All around me, people were tripping over each other and desperately searching for a way to escape, their minds entirely fueled by adrenaline as more and more assassins came out from hiding, breaking their cover.

One of the servants suddenly threw his tray of champagne down and pulled out a pistol, storming towards me and Eddie while we found cover in the gazebo.

“Who the hell are these men?!” I yelled, firing a number of blind shots.

“I don’t know!” Eddie shouted back, his voice shaking. “I’ve never seen them before!”

A bullet grazed one of the pillars, sending splinters of wood flying everywhere.

“Get out your gun!” I told him. “We ain’t leavin’ this place without a fight! You do have it on you, right?”

Eddie slipped his Schofield out from inside his suit. “I don’t go anywhere without it.”

Poking my head out from behind the fence, I pulled out a second revolver and gunned down any assassins in sight, trying my best to draw their fire away from Eddie.

One of the assassins accidentally hit Miss Powell this time as she was fleeing the scene, splattering her blood all over the grass right after she let out an agonized scream.

Were these men with Thatcher? I doubted Atticus sent them. There was no way in Hell they coulda gotten here from England within just a few days. That must’ve meant they were already here in the first place.

Well, shit. I guessed Thatcher didn’t follow Eddie by himself. I shoulda known better.

Taking his own shot, Eddie managed to hit one of the manor’s windows, instantly causing shards of broken glass to explode from the frame before they impaled the assassin standing next to it.

“We’re out in the open!” The pianist exclaimed. “This gazebo won’t hold out forever!”

I frantically darted my eyes around the place, looking for an alternative means of cover.

“The manor!” I said, reloading my gun. “It’s tight space, but if we can get the assassins through there, they’ll be lined up for us to shoot ‘em down!” 

Eddie agreed. “Okay! I’ll follow your lead!”

“I’mma keep shootin’ at them! You run to the manor when it’s clear!”

“...What?!” The musician breathed out, ducking momentarily to avoid a bullet.

“Just do what I say, dammit!” I bent down, looking Eddie in the eye. “Listen to me. We will get outta this, Eddie. You just need to trust me.”

The boy took a deep breath, clearly still unsure of the plan. But it didn’t take long for him to grasp the urgency of our situation. We were in danger, and there was a bunch of men tryin’ to kill us. 

Eddie nodded. “A-Alright. I trust you, Arthur.”

“Good. Now go on! I’ll distract them. You just get your ass into the manor!”

Showering the assassins with an array of sporadic bullets, I lured their attention towards me while Eddie discreetly snuck out of the gazebo, occasionally taking cover along the way.

Meanwhile, I made damned sure that whoever these men were, they wouldn’t be able to take their eyes off me for a second without being shot. I didn’t know what they was expectin’ to see tonight, or who even sent them, but I had a feeling they sure as hell weren’t expecting Eddie to have backup.

Peering over the fence, I prepared to gun down another assassin, only to be interrupted when someone else did the job for me.

“Arthur!” Dutch’s hoarse voice bellowed from the opposite side of the courtyard. “Are you alive?!”

“I’m over here!” I answered.

“Don’t move!” He instructed. “We’re comin’ to you!”

I fired another shot. “No! It ain’t safe here! Get to the manor! And help Eddie! I’ll meet up with you there!”

“Are you sure?”

“Just go!” I yelled back.

“Fine! But I’m sending Hosea to help you out! You just worry about yourself, Arthur! I’ll keep the boy safe!”

Getting back to business, I felt my heart racing faster and faster as I gradually ran out of ammo, shooting into what seemed like a never ending horde of assassins. Just how many of these goddamned maniacs was there?!

I pulled the trigger on one of my revolvers, only to be met with the dreaded click of an empty cylinder. 

“Shit!” I cursed, holstering the gun as I carried on with the other one.

“Hold on, Arthur!” Hosea shouted, bolting his way towards me.

By now, there was people and bodies layin’ all over the entire courtyard, some of them still writhing in pain as they nursed their wounds, rolling around on the drenched ground while the fight stormed on. And as if that weren’t bad enough, it looked like the law was starting to get involved, too.

I crouched behind the fence just as an assassin fired in my direction, barely missing what would’ve been a killing blow.

“I’ve got you covered, Arthur!” Hosea yelled. “Now’s your chance to move!”

Firing a few final shots, I immediately leaped from behind the fence and bolted out of the gazebo, bolting towards the manor while Hosea kept the assassins busy. 

By now, the entire southern facade of the mansion had been decorated with bullet holes, and with every passing moment, more and more were added to the already impressive display.

Diving just inside the manor’s back doors, I practically flattened myself against one of the walls as bullets followed my trail, hitting the floor beneath me instead.

“Arthur!” Eddie called out from inside a room that was closer to the front door. “You’re okay!”

I glanced outside, helping Hosea out as he ran like hell.

“We ain’t outta this just yet! Where’s Tacitus?!”

“Up here!” 

Glancing upwards, I spotted Dutch shooting from behind a railing on the second floor, his guns surrounded by clouds of smoke. There was a certain anger in his eyes that made it obvious he weren’t happy with my decision to open fire, and I dreaded the argument that would come, but for now...all we cared about was getting the hell outta here.

I reloaded my revolvers, slowly making my way over to Eddie as the assassins closed in on the manor.

“I don’t see O’Malley!” I warned.

“He’ll be alright!” Dutch responded, immediately shooting down a man who managed to sneak inside. “That old boy can handle himself better than the three of us combined!”

Breaking through one of the windows, an assassin suddenly jumped on Eddie from behind, yanking him into a choke hold as broken glass scattered everywhere.

“Get your goddamned hands off him!” I roared, but I couldn’t find a clear shot.

Thankfully, Eddie jabbed his elbow into the man’s abdomen and managed to slip free, giving me the opening I needed before planting a bullet right between his eyes.

Some of the assassin’s blood splashed onto Eddie’s clothes, and even onto his face, making the pianist tremble in shock as he struggled to survive this massacre, desperately holding onto his gun for dear life. 

I was gonna murder these sons of bitches for what they done.

Returning my focus to the back doors, I was suddenly tackled by an assassin and pinned down, my guns slipping out of my grasp before slidin’ across the floor.

The assassin firmly pressed his arm against my throat, blocking my airway.

“Who gon’ save you now, boy...?”

Leaping behind a staircase for cover, Eddie shot a bullet directly into the assassin’s shoulder, causing the man to reel in pain as I kicked him off me, instantly reaching for my gun...but I didn’t need to.

Just when I turned around to execute the man, a violent blast thundered from behind him as he froze for a moment before collapsing to the floor, revealing a ferocious Hosea towering in the doorway with a shotgun.

“Come on, Arthur,” he encouraged, helping me up as we ran for the front door. “We’re almost out of this!”

Tagging along, Eddie fired some more shots at the back entrance to ensure no one would be following us while Dutch hastily made his way downstairs, the four of us running out of the manor as if there were no tomorrow.

Meanwhile, the assassins continued to target us, their bullets raining into the floorboards beneath our feet as we barely escaped them, slamming our way through the front double-doors.

“They’re still comin’ after us!” I exclaimed.

Dutch aimed at the lavish chandelier hanging in the foyer and shot it down, leading the candles’ fire to catch onto the rest of the manor once it crashed to the floor.

“Not anymore, they ain’t.”

Taking the chance to flee, we all sprinted out of the burning manor as wild flames began to embrace it, the walls around us now entirely engulfed in fire.

I had no idea what the hell we was gonna do after an incident like this, and I had no doubts Dutch was furious at me for starting a shootout...but at the moment, all I cared about was getting Eddie to safety.

It was clear to me now that we hadn’t escaped Atticus’ wrath just yet. 

Even with Thatcher gone, Eddie’s past was still hunting him down like a dog, and despite whatever Dutch, or Hosea, or anyone in the gang thought about it...I was gonna protect him with my life.

This boy meant more to me than any amount of gold in the country. He was the best thing I’d found in years, and like the idiot I was, I had fallen to the point where I was starting to love him.

If Atticus wanted to kill Eddie, he was gonna have to bury me first.

These assassins caught me off-guard tonight, but the next time they dared to go after Eddie...we would be ready.

And there was gonna be hell to pay.


	11. They're In Our Land Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than the other chapters, but I hope you enjoy anyways :)

From Arthur’s POV

MIDNIGHT

OUTSIDE SAINT DENIS

“Hurry!” Hosea urged, pointing ahead. “This way! We’ll loose ‘em in the trees!”

Snapping my horse’s reins, I rode behind Eddie and Dutch to make sure there were no more assassins followin’ us as we bolted through the marshlands, never looking back.

Even now, we could still hear gunshots thundering in the distance along with police whistles blaring loudly, and we had no idea if any of them had tailed us out of the city.

Christ, I thought to myself. What a goddamned mess. 

Not only did that gala go up in flames faster than a match thrown in moonshine, we also made a new, unknown enemy tonight...and killed about a third of ‘em, from what it looked like.

Who the hell were those people? I wondered. Why did Atticus want Eddie dead so much? 

He weren’t no outlaw like his daddy was. And judging by how little Eddie knew about Rose’s gang, I doubted he was even involved with their criminal activity in the first place.

Eddie was nothin’ but an innocent soul who got caught in the middle of this crossfire all because of another man’s actions...and he nearly paid for it with his life today.

I was just glad that I had been there for him. If I hadn’t-- well...I didn’t even wanna think about that.

Slowing down to a halt, the four of us stopped next to a nearby swamp as our horses’ hooves dragged through the soupy mud, giving us a chance to catch our breaths. It seemed like we had finally lost the assassins, and for the first time in a while, the air around us was actually quiet. 

We had escaped.

For now.

“...Goddammit, Arthur!” Dutch cursed as he climbed down his horse, checking around to make sure we were truly alone. “What happened to ‘our guns stay holstered?”

I got off my own mount, gesturing to Eddie who had drifted away from the group slightly, lowering my voice so he couldn’t hear us.

“They was gonna kill him, Dutch!” I whispered through gritted teeth.

The older man shrugged. 

“So?”

I fell silent at that, completely taken aback by the response.

I mean, I knew Dutch wasn’t as close with Eddie as I was -- and the boy didn’t even know his real identity -- but I still expected him to show at least some sympathy.

Hell, it was because of Dutch’s sympathy that he took me in as a kid. Without him, I woulda lived the rest of my limited time in this world as some street orphan, and I would’ve never been where I was now. 

What happened to Dutch?

Picking up on my surprise, the man lowered his head in an apologetic manner and softened his tone somewhat, glancing over at Eddie who was now sitting on a fallen tree log, unsure of what to do with himself.

“Listen,” Dutch said sternly. “I know he’s your friend, Arthur, but we can’t afford to make sacrifices like this.”

I wasn’t convinced. “So you woulda just let him die?”

Dutch held up a finger, his expression sharpened with annoyance. “...Now it ain’t like that, Arthur. And you know it. But we’re a gang. We have priorities. And that boy ain’t one of them!”

Hosea jumped in before things could get more heated, offering some pragmatism.

“To be fair,” he added, still sitting on his horse, “a shootout most-likely would’ve commenced anyway. I mean -- good God, did you see how many assassins were in that gala? ...And I thought we was well hidden. Though, I’m happy to announce not everything went wrong. Despite all that bloodshed, we still made off with a decent chunk of money. Perhaps not as much as we were anticipating, but enough that I’d call tonight a success.”

Dutch crossed his arms. “I suppose there’s that, at least.”

I sighed out of fatigue, looking around the gloomy marsh. “Well...what happens now?”

Hosea offered some suggestions. “I assume your friend lives in Saint Denis?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Not too far from the place we just burned down, actually.”

“Well, he can’t go back home now. Not for a while, anyway. His house will be the first place those assassins check. He’ll have to stay somewhere else. Does he have any family he could contact?”

“No.” I replied.

“Well, we can’t bring him back to camp,” Dutch reminded. “We can’t risk those assassins finding out where we are.”

I thought about it for a moment, my head perking up once an idea struck me.

“...I’ll stay with him.” I said. 

Both Dutch and Hosea looked at me in confusion.

“We’ll camp out in the wilderness for a while,” I explained. “Move around a bit until things calm down in Saint Denis. It ain’t the safest option, but it’s all we got.”

Dutch shook his head. “We don’t have time for this, Arthur. We need to focus on hitting that bank.”

“We ain’t hittin’ that bank anytime soon, Dutch,” I countered. “The law will be swarmin’ all over the city after what happened tonight.”

“...He’s right,” Hosea agreed. “And besides, it’ll give us more time to plan. After all, this bank is a lot more fortified than the one in Valentine. We need to make sure we’re absolutely ready before robbing it. In the meantime, Arthur can keep an eye on Mister Ryan. Make sure he doesn’t get ambushed again.”

Dutch considered the point for a minute, his dark eyes never leaving mine as the gears turned in his head. 

I could tell the man wasn’t happy with me for getting involved in a war that weren’t even ours to fight, and honestly, I understood exactly where he was comin’ from.

The gang had enough problems trying to avoid the Pinkertons and O’Driscolls. Not to mention Leviticus Cornwall was tearin’ this country apart just to find us...and now, ‘cause of me, we also had to worry about whoever the hell these assassins were. And more importantly -- who sent them.

I mean, someone had to be at the head of those maniacs. The stunt they pulled at the gala wasn’t something you just came up with overnight, and considering how organized their attack was, it was pretty clear that they had some type of leader. My only question was who.

Thatcher obviously didn’t send them. And Atticus was too far away to contact them so quickly. That meant there had to be a third shadow lurkin’ around somewhere...and I doubted they’d give up here. Great. As if we needed more people hunting us down.

Letting out an exhausted breath, Dutch finally gave in and remounted his horse, slowly beginning to make his way out of the marsh.

“Very well,” he said. “I suppose we don’t have much choice. I’m headin’ back to camp. Hosea, you should do the same. Though, it’ll be best if we ride separately. As for you Arthur...” Dutch paused, his gaze traveling to Eddie, “...just keep the boy safe. Otherwise, all o’ this will have been for nothing.”

I gave him a firm nod, bidding both of them farewell.

“I intend to.”

“Then let’s get moving. We’ll avoid Saint Denis for a few days. Keep a low profile while the city’s on high alert. In the meantime, you get that boy far away from here...and be careful. If those assassins were willing to attack him like that in the city...imagine what they’ll do in the wilds. For now though, just stay safe.”

“Good luck, Arthur,” Hosea said. “Hopefully, when you and the boy return, you’ll both be in one piece.”

I waved goodbye. “That’s the plan.”

Breaking into a sprint, both Dutch and Hosea galloped to safety, the two of them disappearing into Lemoyne’s swamplands before diverting their paths. It was still somewhat early in the night, and so far, I hadn’t noticed any stray lawmen or assassins skulking about...so they should’ve been able to get back home just fine before the sun came up.

I couldn’t lie...part of me felt like an absolute idiot and a burden for bringing this sorta trouble to the gang. 

My job was to help Dutch and Hosea keep our people alive. To make sure we was safe, and we was fed. And yet, within the past week, everything I’d managed to do had been the complete opposite.

Not only was I freely giving my money away to a theater that had nothin’ to do with us, I was also wasting my time falling in love with some boy who was better off without me anyway -- when I could’ve been focusing on earning more cash for the camp. All because of my own, selfish desires.

I dragged a hand down my face, thinking back to the shootout. 

Was I doin’ the right thing? I questioned. Or was I simply fanning the flames, drawing even more danger to us?

All I wanted was to protect Eddie from harm. And yet, whenever I was around the boy...trouble only always seemed to follow me. 

First, there was Thatcher’s death. Then, there was the theater robbery...and now, we barely escaped with our lives from a goddamned firefight in the middle of a gala. I was hurtin’ this boy more than I was helping him. 

And it was all due to the fact that, deep down, some part of me absolutely refused to accept the pathetic outlaw I really was. Almost like...I was tryin’ to be some sorta hero, even though I knew damn well I was just as rotten as the people I killed. And that was the sad truth of it.

But...regardless of whatever regrets I had, or how much I wished we could rewind time, we had come too far to turn back now. 

Eddie’s life was in danger, and it was pretty clear to me that these assassins had no intentions on givin’ up anytime soon. If there was any chance that we were gonna get outta this shit-storm alive, we was gonna have to take it together. 

All the way till the end.

Bringing myself back to reality, I paused for a moment and thought about what to say before hesitantly wandering over to Eddie, careful not to distress him further. 

Obviously, this weren’t the first time I’d been in a shootout -- and I highly doubted it’d be the last -- but I was used to this kinda life. Fights like this sometimes occurred to me on a daily basis.

Eddie, on the other hand...I didn’t imagine he had ever been in something quite like this. And it worried me to think about the damage it was probably doin’ to him. After all, that type of fear stuck with people, and in my experience, it was rarely ever forgotten.

I slowly walked up to the boy, admittedly unsure of how to proceed.

“Hey, Eddie.” I said, taking a seat next to him. The musician let out a shaky breath, his eyes stuck on the muddy ground underneath us.

“...Bloody hell, Arthur...” he whispered, his voice quivering with fear. “...What just happened?”

I sighed, resting my elbows on my knees. “I wish I knew. How you holdin’ up?”

Eddie brought his gaze to me, clearly panicking on the inside even if he didn’t show it.

“I’m...I’m in shock. I’ve never seen so many bodies in one place. And poor Miss Powell. I know I wasn’t exactly fond of the woman, but she didn’t deserve that...” the boy gestured to his suit. “And look at me. Drenched head-to-toe in blood, and it isn’t even mine.”

I hung my head low in guilt, silently cursing those goddamned assassins for everything they put Eddie through tonight.

“Jesus...” I murmured. “I’m sorry you had to see all that, Eddie.”

The pianist combed a sluggish hand through his hair, completely drained of all energy.

“I should’ve known Thatcher wasn’t alone,” he scolded himself. “I should’ve known other men followed with him...but like the naive idiot I am, I endangered all the people at that gala because I couldn’t see the danger I was truly in. Including you. Everyone who got hurt tonight was hurt because of me. I’m such a fool.”

I stared at the disheartened man, honestly a little shocked at how critical he was being of himself. I mean, I knew he’d just been through Hell, but I had never seen him quite so dismayed. Even after we killed Thatcher, the boy held himself together pretty well, and got right back on his feet. 

Now though, Eddie just seemed devoid of all hope entirely, and...it hurt to see him like this. 

I mindlessly observed the dark, droopy trees around us, doing my best to calm the boy down.

“...While that may be true,” I conceded, “you can’t afford to think like that. Trust me. That kinda mindset will only eat you from the inside out, and it certainly won’t do you no favors. It ain’t gonna be easy, but you need to be strong right now, Eddie. ‘Cause lemme tell you something...”

I turned towards the boy and firmly held his hand in a supportive manner, looking him directly in the eyes.

“Those assassins might’ve caught us off-guard tonight, but the next time they come...we’ll be ready. We’re gonna let them know that they ain’t the ones doin’ the hunting no more, and we’re not gonna go down without a fight.” 

I tightened my grip slightly, never looking away from Eddie as I lowered my voice. 

“...They’re in our land now.”

Taking in everything I just said, Eddie held my hand back and took a deep breath, appearing a little less shaken up than before. The spark that I had become so familiar with slowly returned to his eyes, and with every passing second, he seemed to relax a bit. 

Despite his faith in me however, it was evident that the boy was still hesitant about the whole situation, and he briefly glanced up at the night sky...almost as if he were searchin’ for answers.

Eddie slouched in discouragement, his hand still latching onto mine.

“But...I can’t fight, Arthur. Not like you, anyways. How on Earth am I supposed to combat this?”

“You’ll learn,” I replied confidently. “I’ll teach you.”

The pianist’s head perked up at that and he quirked a brow out of curiosity, silently asking what I meant.

“I already told Mister Kilgore and O’Malley that I’d stay with you,” I explained. “We’ll camp out in the wilds for a few days -- wait for things to cool off in Saint Denis before bringing you back home.”

Eddie frowned, though not in disapproval. “Arthur...you don’t have to--”

“--I know I don’t have to do it,” I interrupted, thinking twice about what I just said. “Actually...no. I do. I’m the one got you in this mess, after all. Them assassins woulda never come for you if I hadn’t killed Middleton. So...it’s only right I get you outta this. And besides, I can’t just leave you now. Much as I hate to admit it, we’re in this nightmare together. And ain’t nothing you can do that’s gonna make me walk away.”

Looking at me with a sense of gratitude, Eddie found himself at a loss for words as the trees gently swayed around us, filling the profound silence of the night with a soft rustling. 

There was a certain fondness in Eddie’s deep gaze. One that I’d never seen from anyone else. It was a mixture of admiration and tenderness -- something I rarely ever got from other people -- and the longer his eyes lingered on me, the more he seemed to get lost in his own, somber thoughts.

Before I even had a chance to say anything else though, the boy had cupped both sides of my face and pulled me into a loving kiss, planting his lips against mine as my heart came to a halt.

I froze on the spot, completely paralyzed by bewilderment.

What...the hell just happened? 

One minute, I was shooting at an army of assassins and escaping from a burning mansion, and the next, I was sittin’ in the middle of an eerie swamp, finally kissing the man I had foolishly dreamed of for so long right after evading death.

The part that really threw me off though, weren’t the kiss itself. It was the motive behind it.

Unlike my past experiences, there was no lust involved here. No hunger. No craving. It was simply a gesture of affection, and it was Eddie’s subtle way of sayin’ he needed me. 

I...didn’t know if that were true. In fact, I was probably about the last thing he needed, but the poor kid had deluded himself into believing I was a good man worth stayin’ loyal to.

Despite how wrong it felt though, I also couldn’t deny that I had been wanting this for quite a while now. Eddie was definitely one of the best men I’d met in years, and the fact that, out of all people, he had fallen in love with me...well, I guessed my luck hadn’t run out just yet.

My only fear...was thinkin’ about when it would.

Breaking the kiss, Eddie pulled back slightly and bashfully glanced away, speaking just above a whisper as he recomposed himself.

“...Thank you, Arthur. I genuinely don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t met you.”

I let out a light chuckle. “You’d be dead.”

Eddie returned the laugh, beaming warmly at me. “That I would.”

Rising from the log, I helped Eddie up and whistled for my horse, guiding the boy to his own before mounting up and preparing to leave. As much as I wished we could’ve stayed here longer, it weren’t gonna be long before either the law or more of those assassins showed up, and I didn’t wanna get caught in another shootout.

Climbing onto the brute horse, Eddie took a seat and patted Bullet’s neck, earning a friendly neigh from the animal.

“So,” he said, “have you got a plan in mind? You know this land better than I do.”

I gestured outside the swamp, weighing our options.

“Well, the further we are from Saint Denis, the better. I’m thinkin’ we can head to a town called Valentine in New Hanover. It’s pretty far from here, and there’s lots of space to hide in.”

I glanced at Eddie’s bloodstained suit, pausing my train of thought. 

“...Though, maybe it’s best if we both get cleaned up first. It’ll be easier to go unnoticed when we ain’t drenched in blood.”

Eddie looked around. “Where would we clean up? It’s not as if we can just pay for a bath in Saint Denis. Besides, these are the only clothes I have at the moment.”

I snapped my horses reins, leading Eddie out of the marsh as we trotted side-by-side.

“Follow me,” I instructed. “We’ll find a river, or a lake, or somethin’ to wash up in. At least for now. There’s a town just west of here called Rhodes. You can take a proper bath at the saloon once we get there. As for clothes...I think I’ve got some spare shirts in my saddlebag. They might be a bit big for you, but we can always buy some more later on.”

Eddie nodded and picked up his pace, riding alongside me as the morning sun just began to peek over the horizon. “Sounds good.”

I grinned at him. “Then let’s the get the hell outta here.”


	12. Welcome to Civilization

From Arthur’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

KAMASSA RIVER

Well, here we were. Two lost souls on the run from God knows what as we rode across this “civilized” country, searchin’ for a freedom that I wasn’t even sure existed. 

I mean, Dutch always described our gang as a community of free men and women, and yet the only thing I saw was a group of fugitives constantly bein’ forced to evade the law. I supposed it was better than actually being caught by them, but...I still had to wonder what we was truly chasing here. ‘Cause I sure as hell knew what was chasin’ us.

Despite how tense our situation was though, I had to admit: it did feel good to get away from that dreadful cesspit of a city. Walking around Saint Denis always made me feel like I was strangling myself, and half the time, I wanted to strangle the people around me even more. 

And things weren’t that much merrier back at camp neither. There was always a pair o’ fools arguing with each other -- whether it was about Dutch’s so-called plan, or how bland Pearson’s stew was that day -- and it drove me halfway to insanity. 

But now that it was just me and Eddie -- surviving in the wilderness and ridin’ in the open country -- I felt like I could finally breathe again. 

It was nothin’ but endless miles of lush grass and exuberant flowers out here. And we also had a more-than-magnificent view of the purple mountains in the distance, making me and Eddie feel like ants. 

It was certainly a treat to be around nature again. And as strange as it sounded, I was almost excited to return to the humid town of Rhodes where I was pretty sure everyone was related in some way. 

Hell, I even missed the mud-ridden streets of Valentine -- along with that rowdy saloon where I received quite the welcoming. 

It just felt nice to be back in the wilds, despite how chaotic it could become sometimes. But I supposed that was the beauty of it. 

There were no lawmen out here to restrain us, or ridiculous mannerisms that we had to hide behind. It was simply survival, and the things we did to achieve it. 

I only prayed we could avoid the assassins for long enough. Things got risky enough back at the gala, and we had Dutch and Hosea helpin’ us out. If them bastards tracked us down out here -- where we was all by ourselves -- well, we’d have one hell of a fight on our hands. And I intended to be prepared for it.

Splashing water onto my face, I scrubbed all the dried blood off and ran my canteen through the cool river, filling it to the brim before returning to my horse as I chose a new shirt to wear.

So far, things appeared calm enough. And we had yet to run into any other people, except the occasional passerby. For once, things actually seemed to be goin’ according to plan. And it made me uneasy.

I knew I should’ve been grateful for gettin’ outta Saint Denis alive -- and I was -- but part of me just couldn’t shake the feeling that these men weren’t gonna let Eddie go so easily. I mean, if they was willin’ to send that many assassins after him alone, Lord only knew what they’d do once they figured out he wasn’t by himself no more.

Well...I supposed we would find out sooner or later. After all, these men certainly weren’t holdin’ back, and I had no doubts we would encounter ‘em again. 

All I could do now was make sure Eddie was prepared for the next fight.

“You all cleaned up?” I asked the boy, pulling on my favorite blue shirt. He stood up from the river.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied, wiping some droplets off his face. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m good,” I answered, sifting through my saddlebag for another shirt before handing it to him. “Here. Put this on. It ain’t nothin’ fancy, but you can wear it until we get to Rhodes. Or keep it, if you want. I don’t care.”

“Thanks.” He said, taking the piece of clothing in his grasp. It was a simple white French Dress shirt; just somethin’ I bought from the tailor in an attempt to fit in with the “good” folks of Saint Denis. Though, I was pretty sure it made me stand out even more.

“You got any money on you?” I checked, earning a nod from Eddie.

“Some. Only a little, though.”

I closed my saddlebag, patting my horse while she took a generous gulp of water from the river. “Only a little should be enough. The stuff in Rhodes ain’t as expensive as what they sell Saint Denis. And we can always make more.”

Eddie quirked a brow, removing his bloodstained shirt. “How?”

I took a moment to look at our options, doing my absolute best not to stare directly at him.

“Well...there ain’t no shortage of fools in this area. I’m sure we could easily rob someone. Jump a stagecoach or two.”

The pianist froze. 

“...What?”

A boisterous laugh escaped me. “Ha! Relax, kid. I’m only playin’ with you. Nah...if we wanna make some real cash, our best bet is pickin’ up a bounty at the Sheriff’s office. Now -- don’t worry. It ain’t as intimidating as it sounds. Some o’ these outlaws are no joke, but the ones with a smaller bounty can be plain idiots sometimes. Easy money.”

Eddie slipped into the shirt I gave him, clearly still a bit unsure about our plan as he adjusted to his new clothes. “...If you think that’s best.”

I grinned at him, finally placing my prized hat back on as the two of us prepared to leave. Lord, did it feel good to be wearin’ this thing again.

“Well, to quote my good friend Tacitus Kilgore,” I playfully punched his shoulder, strolling over to my mount, “...have some faith, Eddie.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

RHODES

Riding under the white-hot sun as puffs of red dust billowed around us, Eddie and I finally arrived at the Rhodes Train Station, slowly bringing the rest of the town into view the further we walked.

Things seemed lazy ‘round here as usual. Most of the locals was either drunk or asleep, and the ones who weren’t were doin’ their absolute best to get there. To be honest, it hadn’t changed that much since I was last here, and frankly, I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. 

I guessed we would see for ourselves soon enough.

“Welp, here we are...” I said, slowly coming to a halt. “...Rhodes. It ain’t no Saint Denis, but this town’ll leave a mark on your memory in its own way, for sure. What d’you think?”

To my surprise, Eddie appeared to be fond of the place.

“It’s...much prettier than I was expecting,” he confessed, admiring the quaint stores scattered around. “And you can actually breathe the air around here.”

I chuckled. “Sure, but I’m afraid the people are just as rotten. Only difference is they’re honest about it here. Most o’ the time, anyway...”

Eddie glanced around. “So, what do we do now?”

I gestured to the side. “The general store’s right over there. Why don’t you head in and buy yourself some proper clothes? Also some provisions. We still got a ways to go till we reach Valentine, and I doubt we’ll see another saloon for a while.”

He softly tugged on the reins, getting ready to divert our paths. 

“Very well. What about you?”

I pointed a bit further down the road. “I’mma head to the Sheriff’s office. See if they got any bounties posted. I’ll meet you outside when I’m done.”

Eddie nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Oh -- and make sure the clothes you get blend in somewhat. The folk ‘round here don’t take kindly to outsiders. Or ‘yankees’ as they call ‘em.”

The pianist smirked jokingly, trotting towards the general store as he waved a temporary goodbye.

“Of course. I’ll look like a proper cowboy once I’m done.”

I went in my own direction, rollin’ my eyes at the boy. “We ain’t cowboys, you silly fool.”

Eddie snickered, enjoying my annoyance far too much. 

“Whatever you say, Mister Morgan.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE

Hitching my horse to a nearby post, I quickly made my way into the Sheriff’s office and tried my utmost to look civilized, admittedly not too eager to present myself to an officer of the law. 

After all, even though we was mainly concerned about the assassins on our tail, I couldn’t forget about the money-hungry bounty hunters after my own head, as well as the Pinkertons flippin’ this country over just to find me.

I let out a guilt-ridden sigh at the thought, my eyes stuck to the floor as I climbed the small steps to the Sheriff’s office.

Eddie still didn’t know who I truly was. 

Sure, I was being a “good man” and helpin’ him survive out here, but the boy didn’t even know I was an outlaw, let alone that I had five thousand dollars on my head. Hell, maybe I shoulda just let him turn me in. Then he’d have more money than he would know what to do with.

I just...couldn’t bring myself to tell him. I mean, what the hell would he think? Would he even trust me anymore? I doubted it. Eddie had a hard enough time trusting people in general. If he learned about who I was -- or even “Mister Kilgore’s” identity -- I was willin’ to wager that our relationship would be over. Along with...whatever else was goin’ on between us.

...I supposed I would have to confess at some point if I wanted to gain Eddie’s full trust. I just weren’t too sure that now was a good time. We was already busy enough runnin’ away from Rose’s men. The last thing he needed was to learn that his only friend happened to be an outlaw himself.

Well...whatever happened next, now wasn’t the time to feel guilty. 

Eddie and I had a job to do, and we didn’t have very long to do it. If I wanted to get him outta this alive, I would have to focus...no matter how much it pained me to keep all these secrets from him. 

I just hoped he would learn the truth from me, and not someone else.

Pushing the office’s door open, I waltzed in with a casual-enough temperament as the Sheriff’s head perked up from his desk, his eyes flicking towards me upon my arrival.

“Afternoon, mister,” he greeted. “You a bounty hunter? I haven’t seen you in town before.”

“Yes, sir.” I replied.

The Sheriff stood up from his chair. “Well, you’re in luck. We got a couple o’ bounties available at the moment. Quite a hefty sum on both their heads. Why don’t you take a look at the posters?”

Following the Sheriff’s line of sight, I wandered over to a nearby wall and examined the pair of posters, thinkin’ about which one would be easiest for me and Eddie to catch.

The first one had a portrait of a feller who looked to be near my age. The upper part of his face had been mostly covered by wide, black hat but the parts I could see weren’t that much prettier anyway.

He had a mean set of features. His face seemed to be stuck in a permanent scowl, and he had a built, structured nose along with a deep cleft chin. There was also a rather nasty-looking scar crossing over the right side of his mouth, forming some kind of a forced, lopsided frown. Who was this sad son-of-a-bitch?

“That’s Archibald Hill,” the Sheriff explained, noticing my interest. “He used to run with the Lemoyne Raiders, but became somewhat of a lone wolf a few months ago. Now, he terrorizes Lemoyne’s countryside, robbin’ and murderin’ anything that moves. It’d be preferable if you brought him in alive, but I won’t protest if you kill him neither.”

I brought my attention to the second poster, listening to the Sheriff talk while I observed the portrait.

This one actually had two outlaws displayed on it -- a man and a woman -- and both of them had a deranged look their eyes. The woman hid her tangled, messy hair under a pinned-up hat and wore a loose, casual shirt along with a bandolier slung over her shoulder. Her face was long and sharp, and her wild eyes seemed to be stuck in a permanent twitch.

As for the man, he had a head of extremely short, ruffled hair that kind looked like it had been cut from all different directions, and there was a rather thick, graying goatee decorating his chin. His eyes shared the same devilish glint as his partner, and just like before, he had a constant glower creasing his face.

Jesus. I didn’t even wanna think about what I looked like in my wanted poster.

“Ah, the Arlington Twins,” the Sheriff introduced. “Minnie and Jesse. They’re a pair o’ bandits been murderin’ their way across this country for years now. Plenty have gone after them, but so far, none have come back. And to make things trickier, they’re wanted alive. Think you can handle it?”

I considered it for a second, devising multiple plans in my head on how we could capture them as the Sheriff waited for a response. 

Goin’ after Hill was probably the easier and safer option, but these Arlington Twins had quite the bounty on their head -- a hundred dollars, to be exact -- and I was pretty confident that Eddie and I could corner them without too much trouble.

I folded the poster and slipped it into my satchel, giving the Sheriff an agreeing nod.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He sat back down at his desk, giving me a wary look.

“Alright, then. Last I heard, they were spotted somewhere near Dewberry Creek. I’d start lookin’ around there. Careful, though. Them Arlington Twins aren’t the only dangers lurkin’ in that area.”

I opened the door, making my way out of the office. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Well, good luck to you, then.”

Taking my leave, I stepped back into the scorching weather of Rhodes and wandered over to a nearby bench, having a seat while I waited for Eddie to finish up his business.

Thankfully, the Sheriff didn’t seem to realize who I was, and judging by the lack of alarm in the town, I assumed no one else had their eyebrows raised just yet either. 

Instead, they simply carried on with their daily lives and strolled sluggishly through the cloudy streets, doing their best to ignore the one-legged veteran hollerin’ outside the general store.

It weren’t exactly the most eventful day, but...I didn’t need it to be. I had already gotten my fair share of action this week, and I certainly wasn’t looking for more trouble right now. 

Trouble always seemed to have a habit of findin’ me anyways, and I had no doubts it’d come ‘round to me again eventually. I only prayed that, unlike before, it would at least have the courtesy of lettin’ me train Eddie some more.

If we was to get caught in the middle of another shitstorm, I didn’t just wanna be ready. I wanted to have the upper hand.

Halting my train of thought, I suddenly heard the man himself calling out to me from a distance as I glanced to my side, only to be greeted by one hell of a sight.

Even though Eddie’s new clothes weren’t particularly flamboyant or flashy in any way, the boy still managed to look better than the entire town combined. Includin’ me.

In addition to the shirt I gave him, Eddie had bought a navy-blue vest to go over it, a black frock coat, and a matching Nevada hat along with a simple tie. Was it even possible for this boy to be ugly? 

“Well, look at you,” I said with a grin, rising from the bench. “Ain’t you a handsome devil.”

Eddie returned the grin, shrugging casually. “I do my best. So, did you find any bounties?”

I showed him the posters. “Two. Minnie and Jesse Arlington. Apparently, they’re twin bandits been raisin’ hell in these parts recently. Wanted alive for a hundred dollars.”

The pianist examined the portraits. “Any idea where to start?”

“Well, the Sheriff said they were last seen near Dewberry Creek, so my guess is they’re probably targeting the railroad that crosses into New Hanover.”

Eddie quirked a brow. “What makes you say that?”

“Lots of wagons with valuable goods pass through there,” I explained. “Not to mention the weakly-guarded trains that also make the occasional appearance. Good money for people like them.”

“Makes sense. Have you got a plan on how to catch them?”

I nodded, putting away the posters. “Yeah, but we’ll focus on that later. At the moment, I’d feel better if you knew how to handle a larger gun. Like a rifle. You still got Middleton’s old weapons on your mount?”

Eddie peered in Bullet’s direction. “Fortunately, yes.”

I whistled for my own horse. “Then let’s you and I find a place out in the wilds where we can shoot in peace. Them assassins ain’t gonna shoot at us with handguns, and I wouldn’t want you to be usin’ one neither. Besides, I think it’s time you got in some more practice. You ain’t a bad shot, but you’re still a bit slow.”

The boy smirked at me, mounting Bullet before following me outta town. “For now.”

I chuckled, the two of us galloping away just as the sun began to sink in the sky.

“For now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THAT EVENING

CLEMENS POINT

Riding all over Lemoyne’s vast countryside, Eddie and I spent the rest of the day shooting, hunting, fishing, exploring...and I even taught him a few new tricks with his revolver. 

The boy had certainly improved since the last time I showed him how to shoot a gun, and to make things even better, Thatcher left behind quite an impressive arsenal of weapons. 

The Lancaster, in particular, was an especially beautiful gun. It was decorated with a sleek ebony varnish, blackened steel, and on the frame, there was a golden engraving of what looked like a side-view portrait of a little boy’s face. The gun was also in pretty good condition, considering how much Thatcher must’ve used it, and to my surprise, Eddie couldn’t seem to get enough of it.

Heh. Maybe I’d make a gunslinger outta him yet.

With a powerful bang, Eddie took another shot at the bottles I had set out for him, getting more and more used to the rifle with every bullet he fired. There was a certain look in his eyes -- the same one he had when the two of us killed Middleton -- and part of me couldn’t believe this was the boy I ran into outside the Bastille. 

Nowadays, Eddie appeared more adamant. Determined. Unafraid to fight back. Certainly not the scared, frightened kid Atticus Rose probably still had in mind. And I was gonna do my damnedest to make sure he didn’t know about this Eddie until it was too late.

After all, if I had learned anythin’ from my time with Dutch, it was that underestimating your enemy was as good as giving them a victory before the fight even started. And Lord knew we needed an advantage.

“Remember to press the stock against your shoulder,” I reminded Eddie, standing closely beside him. “Make sure there ain’t a gap. Otherwise, the recoil will send that stock flyin’ straight back at you, and it’ll leave quite a nasty bruise.”

I readjusted Eddie’s posture slightly, pushing him forward just a bit. “Also remember to lean in And...as always...”

“...Fire on the exhale.” He finished. I smiled proudly at him.

“Exactly.”

Pulling the trigger, Eddie almost effortlessly blasted one of the bottles right off the stand, smoke now gliding through the air. I patted his shoulder in praise.

“See? You ain’t so terrible, after all.”

He lowered the rifle, chuckling in response. “Perhaps not.” 

Placing the Lancaster against a nearby tree, the pianist switched back to his more familiar, timid tone as his eyes softly gazed at me, watching with a certain affection.

“...Thank you for showing me that, Arthur. The amount of things you’ve taught me this past week -- I feel like a changed man.”

I took a seat next to the campfire I’d built for us earlier, quoting one of Hosea’s favorite philosophies.

“Well, maybe you ain’t changin’ at all,” I suggested. “Just getting closer to the man you always was.”

Eddie sat down next to me, his expression glowing with endearment.

“I never thought about it that way. Maybe you’re right, though. I just wish I could’ve started changing sooner. Would’ve done me and my family a whole lot of favors.”

I let out an understanding sigh, lazily staring at the sparks dancing above the fire.

“Don’t we all. But...ain’t no point in regrets. ‘Cept learning from them.”

Eddie took his hat off and placed it in his lap, running a gentle hand through his loosened hair.

“Do you have any regrets, Arthur?” 

I nodded subtly, tryin’ to hide the sorrowful frown that threatened to creep on my face.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty o’ regrets, I’m afraid. And even more mistakes.”

“Like what?” He questioned. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

I gazed upwards at the violet sky, sifting through all my godforsaken memories as the hypnotic fire crackled softly in front of us.

A despondent breath escaped me. “...I’ve loved all the wrong people. Killed the right ones. All in the name of greed.” 

I furrowed my brow and leaned slightly towards the campfire, mindlessly speaking my thoughts as they came along.

“Money...money’s a strange thing, y’know,” I muttered. “I’ve barely got any of it and yet, it’s the thing affectin’ me most. Makes me wonder who I’d be if money didn’t exist. If such a world is even possible.”

I paused for a moment, bringing my attention to Eddie.

“...But I’ll tell you one thing I don’t regret,” I gently grabbed the pianist’s hand, holding it securely. “Meetin’ you. I know I don’t really talk ‘bout this sorta thing often, but...you mean a lot to me, Eddie. A whole lot. ...My only regret is that you had to end up with a man like me.”

Eddie almost appeared upset at that comment and he quickly placed a hand on my cheek, gently turning my head so that I was facing him.

“What are you on about? I’m happy to be with you, Arthur. I know you see yourself as the devil, but...you’re the only reason I’m still alive. The only reason I actually have a fighting chance against Atticus. So stop beating yourself up all the damn time, and realize that, to some people out there, you’re an angel. Because you certainly are in mine.”

My gaze fell to the ground. “You’d be the only one.”

Eddie leaned in, resting the bridge of his nose against mine. “Sometimes, you only need one.” 

Pressing a short kiss to my lips, Eddie lingered for a second before separating it, only to be pulled right back in when I wrapped my arms around him, bringing the musician into a tight embrace.

Despite the gesture being somewhat sudden, Eddie warmed up to it soon enough and welcomed the kiss, practically melting in my arms as the sky darkened above us. 

I had no idea what the hell I was doing, and I could hear my own mind screamin’ at itself...but at the moment, I didn’t care. Right now, all I cared about was Eddie. And regardless of how wrong this mighta been, or how foolish I was acting...it just felt right. It felt like somethin’ I needed to do. And I was powerless to resist it.

Deepening the kiss, Eddie began caressing the sides of my face before pulling me closer, both of us completely lost in our own thoughts.

It was almost as if I’d forgotten about all my troubles. About all the shit we was runnin’ from, and runnin’ towards. Like the outside world didn’t even exist no more, and we were free to live our lives. 

But the longer we stayed like this, the more I found myself growing addicted to that feeling...and it frightened me. It was just as dangerous as it was thrilling, and regardless of how much I wanted to continue, I knew I couldn’t. 

I hurriedly forced myself to stop and broke the kiss before I could get too carried away, backing up from Eddie as much as it pained me to do so.

I turned back towards the campfire, shamefully looking away from the pianist.

“Erm -- we should...” I cleared my throat, “...we should get some rest. Got a busy day ahead of us.”

Eddie looked at me in a manner that said he could tell somethin’ was wrong, but he decided not to say anything on the subject anyway. He knew me, after all. And he knew I’d tell him when I was ready.

So, instead, the boy simply agreed and stood up from the fire, tiredly walking over to his bedroll as the stars began to twinkle around the rising moon.

Eddie glanced at me over his shoulder, saying a brief goodnight.

“Well...I suppose I’ll see you in the morning, then. Goodnight, Arthur. And thank you. For everything. You really do have a heart of gold.”

I remained at the fire for a while longer, tryin’ to process everything that just happened as the flames began to die down.

“So do you,” I replied. “...Just not the same kind.”


	13. Two Truths And A Lie

From Arthur’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

CLEMENS POINT

Picking up on the scent of cooked meat, I gradually rose back into consciousness as my eyes fluttered open to the morning sunlight, revealing a scene I did not expect.

Not too far away from me, Eddie was roasting something over a newly-lit campfire as Bullet chewed on a clump o’ grass behind him, the two of them already wide-awake while I hadn’t even moved from my bedroll yet.

When the hell did they go hunting? The sun wasn’t even that high in the sky yet, and judging by the freshness of the campfire, I assumed Eddie returned just recently. That must’ve meant he’d been up ever since dawn.

Well, someone was certainly excited to start the day.

Letting out a fatigued yawn, I stretched my arms out and sat up from the ground, causing Eddie to jolt his head in my direction as I dragged a hand down my face.

“Morning, Arthur,” he greeted with a smile, offering some of the food he was cooking. “Rabbit?”

I glanced around the camp for a minute, still trying to get my bearings.

“You caught somethin’ already? Heh. Looks like I taught you well.” I stood up from the bedroll and took a seat beside Eddie, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

“You certainly did,” he agreed. “Though, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the skinning part.”

I took a sip. “Oh, I hope you do. There’ll be lots of skinnin’ today, after all. ‘Parently, these Arlington Twins are no joke. Plenty o’ folk gone after them already, but none have succeeded. They’re wanted alive, too.”

Eddie raised a brow. “And you think it’s a good idea to hunt them down?”

“None of this is a good idea,” I replied. “But it’s the only option we got right now. Unless you wanna earn money by shovelin’ pig shit on a ranch instead.”

The pianist chuckled. “Well, when you put it that way...”

I gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Just stay alert, and don’t hesitate to shoot ‘em if things go south. I know they’re wanted alive, but I’d rather you be broke than be dead.”

Eddie nodded. “I’ll do my best. So, what was this plan you mentioned before?”

I stared at the fire in thought, pondering the multiple ways we could approach this.

“Well, like I said...there’s a good chance they’re targeting the trains coming from New Hanover, so I think it’d be best if we figure out when the next one rolls in. See if we can’t catch them along the way.”

I downed the rest of my coffee, stuffing the mug back into my satchel as I prepared to leave. “I know a feller over at the Rhodes train station could help us out. A peculiar man by the name of ‘Alden,’ but he’s effective in his own way. He’ll know the trains’ schedule.”

Eddie paused for a moment, briefly falling silent before agreeing to my plan.

For a second there, it looked like he wanted to ask me something, but dropped the subject and refrained himself from doing so.

Was everything alright? I wondered. Maybe I should’ve taken a step back and checked on the boy for a damned minute before runnin’ off to hogtie some outlaws.

After all, Eddie had been through hell this past week. With Middleton’s death, the gala shootout, and being forced to survive in the wilds -- I had no idea how this was really affectin’ him.

I forced myself to slow down for a moment and simply sat on my horse, peering over at Eddie with a concerned expression.

“...You alright there, Eddie?” I asked. The musician unhitched Bullet from the post, putting his hat back on as he climbed on top of the beast.

“Well, there is something I want to talk about,” he confessed, “but...now’s not really a great time.”

I shrugged. “On the contrary, now is probably the best time. Never know when we’ll have a moment o’ peace like this again.”

Eddie gave in and sighed in a worried manner, somberly looking away from me. He actually appeared rather upset -- more than I first anticipated -- and the longer he went without sayin’ anything, the more I was afraid somethin’ bad had happened to him.

What was going on?

Eddie stared blankly at the ground, his voice softening with sorrow and uncertainty as I waited for a response.

“...Am I...making you uncomfortable, Arthur?” He questioned quietly.

I blinked in confusion, wonderin’ how on Earth he even got to that conclusion.

“Wh-- no, of course not. What gave you that idea?”

Eddie turned back to me, clearly more hurt than he was lettin’ on.

“It’s just...every time I try to get close to you, like last night, it always seems to scare you off. And you’re constantly going on about how you shouldn’t be around me, or that it’s better off if we put some distance between each other. I just wanted to know if I’m reading the signs wrong. If I’m...perhaps not quite understanding what our relationship really is, and pushing things too far. ...Am I? Is this...not what you want?”

I found myself at a loss for words, suddenly feelin’ like such an asshole. This whole time, I truly believed I had been protecting Eddie when, in reality, I’d actually been hurting him.

Every time we was around each other, or every time Eddie tried to approach me for comfort, I always seemed to subconsciously push the kid away and do my absolute best to shield my true emotions from him, not realizing the messages I was really sending.

Good God, I was an idiot.

Not only had I been making Eddie feel unwanted, I had also gone and taken apart the only life he ever knew by gettin’ involved in a war that weren’t even mine, and throwin’ him out into the wilds.

But of course, like the fool I was forever damned to be, I perceived it as an act of protection -- and through some twisted logic -- saw myself as the guardian in this scenario.

I struggled to find the right words, stutterin’ like an absolute moron while I tried to reassure Eddie.

“Oh, Eddie...” I said, my tone filled with guilt, “...I’m...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I...”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, desperately attemptin’ to put out this fire I’ve started.

“Listen,” I stated, “I know you think I’m a good man -- and maybe, deep down somewhere, I am -- but my actions don’t always reflect it. I’ve...I’ve committed crimes, Eddie. Harmed people that didn’t deserve it. Taken things that weren’t mine. And as a result, it’s gotten those around me hurt. Sometimes, even killed. I just don’t want the same thing to happen to you. I don’t wanna put you in danger.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m already in danger, Arthur.”

“All the more reason not to add more onto your plate.”

The boy leaned over and placed a hand on my lap, appearing somewhat relieved.

“We’re in this fight together, Arthur,” he reiterated. “Sure, this isn’t what either of us wanted, but it’s happening now. And the only way we’re going to get out of it is if we stay by each other’s side. I know you’re willing to protect me, and I’m willing to protect you. No one is putting anyone in danger, except for Atticus Rose. Alright?”

I took what he said to heart, still feelin’ guilty for hurting Eddie the way I did.

“You sure about this?” I double-checked. “You sure you wanna...tie yourself down to some big, dumb moron like me?”

The boy chuckled, his emerald eyes twinklin’ once again.

“Positive. Now...” Eddie gently whipped his reins, signaling Bullet to start trotting out of the camp as he looked back at me with a grin, “...are we catching these twins or what?”

~~~~~~~~~~

RHODES TRAIN STATION

Strolling through the double-doors, Eddie and I entered the quiet train station as everyone instantly began staring us, following our every move while we made our way to the ticket booth.

Most of the people inside were relaxing on the multiple benches scattered around and reading the newspaper, tiredly waiting for their train to arrive as life carried on outside.

So far, things seemed calm enough. And judging by the lack of alarm in the locals, I assumed the Arlington Twins hadn’t hit any of their trains just yet. That meant they were either still planning, or waitin’ for the right moment. We would have to move fast.

Walkin’ up to the booth, I tapped the little bell sittin’ on the counter and caught the attention of Trelawny’s old friend, lowering my voice as I told Eddie to wait by the door.

“Hello, Arthur!” Alden exclaimed happily. “You came back! Oh, it’s good to see you again. I hope you’ve been well?”

I nodded casually, placing a few dollars on the counter. “Well enough. Listen...I need a different favor today. I ain’t lookin’ for no stagecoach. I’m lookin’ for a train this time.”

The clerk’s eyes widened as he took the money. “A train? Ain’t that a tad...ambitious?”

I smirked. “What can I say? I’m an ambitious man.”

Alden smiled. “That, you are, Arthur. That you are. Well, let’s see...” he opened a the ledger, sliding his finger down the page as he studied the arrival times. “I assume you’re wantin’ a train with some value on it?”

“That would be ideal.”

He took out a slip of paper and began eagerly scribbling some notes on it.

“You’re in luck. There’s a train arrivin’ from New Hanover at ten o’clock. It’s carrying some weapons as well as some money, and there aren’t too many guards on board. A perfect opportunity for a...discouraged man such as yourself.”

I checked the clock on the wall, squinting slightly to read the time. It looked like we had about half an hour before the train arrived. That would work.

“Sounds good,” I said, taking the note Alden had written for me. “Thank you.”

“Be real careful, Arthur,” he warned compassionately. “Goin’ after stagecoaches is one thing, but trains...they’re no joke.”

I returned to Eddie, waving goodbye to the clerk.

“Oh, don’t worry, Alden. I’m always careful.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

BORDER OF NEW HANOVER

Hiding among the many trees in this region, Eddie and I kept a close watch on the railroad tracks as we waited for the train to come through, our weapons all loaded up and ready to go.

The area had been pretty quiet so far, and there was nothin’ but deer and wild horses running around, along with the occasional traveler or two passing by. And what made things even stranger...was that nothing had been placed on the tracks that would force the train to stop.

It made me wonder if the Arlington Twins were even nearby. Or if they were planning to hit this train specifically. Jesus...after all this drama, I almost hoped they were.

“See anythin’ yet?” I asked, observing the place through a pair of binoculars.

“No,” Eddie answered, taking out a pocket watch. “Are you sure it’s arriving at ten? What did that note Alden gave you say?”

I took the piece of paper out and held it between two fingers, handing the note over to Eddie. “Here.”

The boy examined it for a moment, his brow furrowing once he reached the end.

“...Who is this Alden, exactly?” He questioned, sounding a little jealous.

I adjusted my binoculars. “An old ‘associate’ of mine, you could say. I’ve known him for a few months now. Why?”

“Because at the end, it says: Be real careful. Xxxxx. And he’s also drawn a heart.”

I let out a breath, lowering the binoculars for a second.

“Jesus, Alden...” I grumbled, taking the note back. “L-Look, there ain’t nothin’ between us, Eddie. That man’s just...immensely attached to me for some reason. Has been since day one.”

Eddie softly laughed. “I know. I’m only teasing you, Arthur.”

I went back to scouting. “...If you say so.”

The pianist gave me a nudge, pointing towards the western side of the tracks as the sound of a rhythmic engine reached my ears.

“Wait, look! There’s the train.”

Bringing my attention to the train as it passed by, I began searching for any signs of the Arlington Twins, focusing my binoculars on the surrounding area.

“Well, they haven’t robbed it yet, that’s for sure. You see ‘em anywhere?”

Eddie shook his head again. “No.”

I zoomed in, examining the inside of the train through the dusty windows and studying the opulent passengers one-by-one as they relaxed in the car, completely oblivious to what was about to happen.

The train’s interior was much more luxurious than I expected. From what I could see, there were lavish couches and tables decorating the inside of the carriage along with a cozy bar takin’ up one of the corners, and it seemed like the passengers were enjoying a meal at the moment. I guessed that was the dining car.

What really caught my attention however, was a certain woman who was sittin’ directly in my line of sight. For some reason, she appeared very familiar to me, and the longer I looked at her, the more she rang an ominous bell in my head.

The way her face was shaped, the way her makeup was done, the way her eyes seemed to be in a constant twitch...

Holy shit.

I froze with realization, hurriedly putting my binoculars away as I sprung up from the ground and ran for my horse.

“That’s because they’re already on it! C’mon! We gotta catch this train!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Bolting alongside the railroad, Eddie and I galloped so fast to the point where it felt like we was glidin’ off the damned ground as we tried to match the speed of the train, practically standing straight-up in our saddles as blades of grass flew behind us.

It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed just who the hell two of the passengers really were, and as far as I could tell, no sort of robbery had commenced yet. Though, considering how close we was gettin’ to Rhodes, I imagined them twins were gonna get to work pretty soon.

I kicked my spurs into my horse, urging her to run faster.

“We gotta get close enough to jump on!” I yelled at Eddie over the train’s thunderous engine.

“I hear you!” He shouted back.

Leaning forward, I firmly whipped the reins and pushed my mount to speed up as I steadily approached one of the flat carriages, unable to ignore the large cliff that was steadily comin’ up in the distance.

It looked like the railroad turned into a bridge not too far away from here, and if I didn’t jump onto this thing soon, I weren’t gonna be here when it crossed.

“Shit...!” I cursed, immediately angling myself towards the cars. I wasn’t anywhere near close enough to the train, and the gap in front of me was a lot wider than I woulda liked...but I was runnin’ out of land to work with. And despite how chaotic my life might’ve been, I didn’t much fancy the idea of plummeting to my death.

Bracing myself for what was about to come, I balanced myself on the saddle and took multiple deep breaths, my heart hammering along with the train’s engine as I prepared to jump.

The ground beneath me had turned into a green blur at this point, and with every second I wasted sittin’ here like an idiot, the faster the edge of the cliff seemed to draw near.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists, encouraging myself to do the unthinkable as I got ready to jump.

“...Come on, you son-of-a-bitch...!”

Taking a literal leap of faith, I launched myself through the air and landed roughly on the metal carriage with a heavy thud, holdin’ on for dear life as my legs dangled off the edge and my horse came to a stop, rearing at the cliff.

The train was well off the cliff by now, and against my better judgement, I glanced downwards, only to be greeted by the bottomless pit of jagged rocks and aggressive waterfalls underneath me.

I let out a strained groan, musterin’ as much strength as possible before pulling the rest of my body on board.

“Eddie?” I shouted, getting back on my feet. “You there?!”

The pianist’s voice called back at me from a different carriage. “I’m here!”

I took out my revolver, heading straight for one of the passenger cars.

“I’m goin’ after Minnie!” I informed. “I saw her in the dining car! You keep an eye out for the brother! And remember -- capture them alive!”

Stormin’ my way across the carriage, I squeezed my way through the many crates of cargo and wasted no time in barging through the door as all the passengers inside nailed their eyes onto me, alarmed by the sudden intrusion while I searched for the sister.

“Minnie Arlington!” I barked, scanning the seats like a hawk.

The woman sprung up from her bench, letting out a cackle when she finally realized what my purpose here was. Jesus -- Minnie looked even crazier in person. Not only did she have strands of wild hair stickin’ out from under her big, floppy hat, she had also stuffed herself into a big, green gown to blend in with the rest of the passengers.

“Well, hello there, darling!” Minnie taunted with a wide grin, whipping out her own revolver. “I was wonderin’ when the next bounty hunter’d show up! Well, c’mon then, lil’ boy! Show me what you’re made of -- blood and bones just like the others, I assume!”

Her finger snaked over the trigger, causing me to jolt out of the way just as a bullet came zipping past my ear.

I shot straight back at her, only to end up hitting a wine bottle on the table she was taking cover behind as red liquid and glass sprayed everywhere.

Numerous shrieks of panic instantly erupted within the train carriage. Passengers ducked under their seats with no other way out and screamed in fear, shielding themselves from debris as I pushed through the aisle and continued my pursuit of Minnie.

The outlaw had made her way to the opposite end of the car by now and was hurling liquor bottles at me as a distraction while she steadily inched towards the second exit.

So far, her twin had yet to lend her a helping hand, and far as I could tell, the same could’ve been said for Eddie. I hadn’t seen him ever since I threw myself onto this godforsaken train, and he certainly didn’t follow me into the carriage. Where was he?

Firing her last bullet in my direction, Minnie toppled over a grandfather clock in her path, forcing me to climb over the damned thing as she gripped the exit’s handle.

“So long, bounty hunter!” She exclaimed. “Maybe next time, you’ll actually get the bounty!”

Swinging the door open, Minnie let out a sharp laugh and ran to her freedom, only to be blocked by none other than Eddie himself who was standing directly in the doorway, Lancaster in hand as he stared her down.

“There won’t be a next time, love.” 

Eddie bashed the stock directly into Minnie’s head, knocking her out cold as she fell flat on the floor, completely motionless. Afterwards, the pianist bent down and began tying her up with some rope, glancing at me from under his hat’s rim.

“I got her, Arthur.” He assured. “You go on and find Jesse. I’ll make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

Giving him a quick nod, I slipped past the two of them and headed outside, searching the rest of the train for Jesse as the railroad took us through an even taller waterfall, sprinkling puffs of mist all over me.

By now, I could practically see the entirety of the Heartlands from here, and the sun was just startin’ to climb in the sky, causing an array of golden beams to seep through the thick, white clouds and onto the land below. It was one hell of a view if I ever saw one. I just wished I actually had the time to look at it.

Hurrying through an empty carriage, I swiftly reloaded my gun before spotting Jesse in the conductor’s car, mindin’ his own business.

It looked like the man had killed the original conductor and was now disposing of his body by throwing it over the edge, allowing the poor soul to plunge through the air and into a raging river below.

He didn’t seem to know I was there yet, and just before he could stop the train, I called out his name, making sure my revolver was clear as day in hopes of persuading him to surrender.

“Jesse Arlington!” I yelled, making the outlaw freeze in place. “I’m here to turn you in. Now, I ain’t gonna kill you, but I sure as shit will make you wish I had if you gimme enough of a reason to. So you got one chance to come easy...before I start shooting.”

The man turned around to face me, revealing the nice set of yellow teeth hidin’ behind his cocky grin as he slowly put his hands up.

He let out a chuckle. “...A bounty hunter, eh? You wouldn’t be the first to come after me, big man, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

I gestured to the carriages behind me. “Your sister would disagree.”

Jesse paused at that, his grin disappearing as the mischievous twinkle vanished from his eyes. “...My sister?”

I nodded, admittedly amused by his sudden lack of courage. It was my turn to smile now.

“Oh, yeah,” I confirmed, subtly stepping closer to him. “Minnie’ll be wearin’ a California collar soon enough, and if things go accordin’ to plan, they’ll be suitin’ you up, too. So, you gonna come easy? Or am I gonna have to introduce you to the rope sooner than expected?”

Jesse gulped at that, clearly not confident about his chances no more. I could see beads of sweat rolling down his brow, and with every second he spent glaring at me, the easier I could tell he was losing his nerve.

The outlaw muttered a quick curse, his jaw clenching in anxiety as he desperately searched for a way out.

“Shit...!”

To my surprise, the man suddenly leaped upwards and climbed onto the roof of the train, attempting to escape me as he ran to the other end.

“Of course...” I hissed, putting my gun away. If I shot him while he was up there, there was no doubt the man would fall off. That meant I was gonna have to restrain this bastard with my bare hands.

Pulling myself onto the roof with an amount of strength I didn’t know I had, I broke into a sprint and furiously chased after Jesse as he bolted ahead of me, jumping from carriage to carriage while the train aggressively stormed across the bridge.

The waterfall was well behind us at this point, and all I could see right now was miles of open country...along with a deadly drop looming beneath us as it swallowed the bridge’s towering supports.

This was definitely not what I had in mind when I took the Arlingtons’ posters off that goddamned wall, and I sure as hell hoped this would all be worth it in the end.

I picked up the pace, hurdling over the numerous gaps laid out in front of me.

“Stop, dammit!” I shouted, gradually gaining on Jesse. 

The outlaw had reached a dead-end by now, and was frantically searching for any other options as his eyes flicked around, his body coming to an abrupt halt once his gaze landed on me.

Jesse gritted his teeth in anger, sliding out a knife when he finally decided to confront me.

“You want the money you came for, boy?” He growled. “You’ll have to fight for it.”

Pouncing at me like a tiger, Jesse began violently swingin’ his knife around while the two of us fought in the middle of the sky, our clothes billowing wildly in the powerful wind as we barreled through Lemoyne’s countryside.

At this height -- combined with the train’s smoke whirling around us -- it almost felt like we was fightin’ on our own little arena above the clouds as we hurled each other around the roof, doing our absolute best not to fall off.

It was a one-way ticket to death waitin’ underneath us, and I had no intentions of hopping from this ride to another.

I quickly recomposed myself, prowling towards Jesse as I held my fists up in defense.

Throwing a flurry of punches at the outlaw, I ducked and swerved outta the way of his blade, the sharp edge just barely brushing against my skin as the two of us brawled on top of the train, tryin’ to corner the other on the edge.

There was a certain adrenaline sparking my movements -- one I rarely ever experienced -- and the longer the battle carried on, the more determined I was to shut this son-of-a-bitch’s lights out.

I took a deep breath, readying myself for whatever was to come next.

Lunging at me with his knife, Jesse let out an angered yell and attempted to stab me in the abdomen, only to find himself locked in my hold once I grabbed his arm and bashed my forehead against his, stunning the man.

Dazed from the hit, Jesse stumbled backwards and dropped his knife over the edge, leaving him completely defenseless as he sluggishly rolled around, trying to stabilize himself.

Meanwhile, I took the opening before he could do anything else and hurriedly prepared my lasso, only to get kicked directly in the stomach once I got close to the man.

Using the opportunity to gain the upper hand, Jesse briskly tackled me to the ground and grabbed a handful of my shirt, hoisting me upwards as he dangled me over the train’s border.

Jesse’s disgusting grin returned to his face and he laughed lowly, more than eager to throw me off.

“You got nowhere to run, cowboy...” he taunted. “Nowhere except down.”

Sneaking its way into the scene, a second lasso suddenly roped itself around the both of us, tying me and Jesse up into a bundle as we stared at each other in confusion before being yanked back onto the roof.

I landed on top of the outlaw with a heavy thud, both of us glancing around to see just who the hell had joined the fight, only to find Eddie at the end of the rope.

The pianist steadily approached us as he unholstered his revolver, glaring at Jesse in a defensive yet somehow playful manner.

“He ain’t a cowboy.” 

Pulling the trigger, Eddie fired a bullet directly into the man’s leg, causing him to let out an agonized howl while I slipped out of the lasso, lying still for a second as I caught my breath.

I lazily looked up at the musician, giving him a weak but thankful smile.

“...Bravo...”

He returned the smile, beaming at me as he hogtied Jesse properly.

“What can I say? I learn from the best.” Eddie stood back from the outlaw, admiring his handiwork. “So, what do we do now?”

I sat up and gazed at the view surrounding us, a breath of relief escaping me now that the fight was finally done.

“...We get our goddamn money.”

Eddie took a seat next to me, his legs hanging off the train’s edge.

“And after that?”

“Keep headin’ west,” I replied. “To Valentine. Possibly Strawberry. Hell, even New Austin if need be. Anywhere...but Saint Denis.”

The boy seemed satisfied with that and hung his head low, clearly drained of energy from all this action.

“Fair enough,” he concluded. “Just...no more trains, please.”

I laughed at that, removing my hat for a second as I combed a hand through my hair.

“Now that...is a promise I can’t make.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A LITTLE LATER

RHODES, SHERIFF’S OFFICE

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the Sheriff blurted out, staring at the two outlaws we had thrown onto the floor of his office. “You actually caught them. They make you work for it?”

I exchanged looks with Eddie, the two of us lookin’ like we had just gone to hell and back.

“A little.”

“Well, my deputies’ll take it from here. In the meantime, here’s your money. A hundred dollars, as promised. Spend it wisely.”

I grabbed the bill-fold off the desk, wavin’ a quick goodbye to the Sheriff as Eddie and I took our leave.

“Pleasure doin’ business.”

Stepping out of the office, the Sheriff called for his deputies to clean up the mess while Eddie and I wandered back into the quiet town of Rhodes, splitting the money we just earned.

I slapped fifty bucks into Eddie’s hand and beamed at him, praising the boy like a proud mentor.

“Good work, kid,” I complimented. “It ain’t exactly ‘easy money’ like I was expecting, but you did well anyway. And you saved my life, too. So, thank you for that.”

The pianist smiled bashfully and flicked his eyes towards the ground, his expression glowing with gratitude.

“Of course, Arthur. You’re worth saving...even if you may not believe it.”

I chuckled lightly. “Oh, I dunno ‘bout that...but I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, how’s about you and I get outta this hot weather and start makin’ our way to Valentine? It’s a calm enough town, and if we move fast, we should be able to get there by this evening. Maybe even stop at the saloon for a drink or two. Lord knows I could use one.”

Eddie followed me out of Rhodes, both of us feeling refreshed now that we were off that goddamned train.

“Nice to see you’re spending your money wisely.” He joked.

I gave him a friendly wink, slipping the bills into my satchel.

“Well, for a few dollars more, we might even get some proper food to eat. And I know there’s a saloon just down the road, but...I’ve had enough o’ this town. What ‘bout you?”

Eddie sighed in fatigue, nodding in agreement. “Yes, I think I’m more than ready to move on to Valentine.”

I stuck a cigarette in between my lips and struck a match, lighting the tip as I let out a breath of smoke.

A smirk crept onto my face.

“...Then what the hell’re we waitin’ for?”


	14. Dead Man's Hand

Author’s note: Just wanted to say a quick thanks for all the support you guys have been giving this story. It’s really great to know you’re enjoying this fic, and the messages you’ve been sending me have all been super encouraging. So thank you guys for taking the time to read this, and I hope you continue to enjoy it :)

From Arthur’s POV

THAT NIGHT

SMITHFIELD’S SALOON, VALENTINE

Well, we were finally here. After what felt like an eternity of chasing them Arlington Twins, and ridin’ from Lemoyne all the way to New Hanover, Eddie and I had reached Valentine at last. 

The town seemed to be the same as usual -- sheep shit and all -- and it was actually kinda quiet due to most of the people being asleep right now. But o’ course, the saloon was rowdy as always, and it stood out like a goddamned beacon in the darkness of the night. How anyone got a wink of sleep in this place with all the constant ruckus was beyond me. 

I just hoped that nobody would recognize me from the last time I was here. I still hadn’t lived down the fight I had with Big Tommy, and I certainly didn’t wanna renew my status as the town brawler. But perhaps, with Eddie by my side, I would actually manage to be somewhat civilized tonight. ...But that was just wishful thinkin’ on my part.

Approaching the front of the saloon with Eddie in tow, the two of us climbed the muddy steps as I showed the pianist inside, already able to hear the mayhem occurring on the other side of the wall. This was gonna make one hell of a first impression on the boy.

“Welcome to Smithfield’s,” I told Eddie, pushing through the swinging doors as the smell of alcohol slapped us in the face. “What d’you think?”

The boy gazed around for a moment, his line of sight mainly sticking to the piano as he took in the environment. 

There was drunken fellers stumblin’ around all over the place, workin’ girls trying to seduce any of the cowboys that passed ‘em by, and an entire circle of men sat down at the Poker table, mindlessly throwing their money away.

Normally, I woulda hated how packed it was in here -- and I could only imagine how Eddie must’ve felt, seein’ as how he was new to this place -- but I actually found a strange sense of comfort in the casually chaotic mood of this saloon.

Somethin’ about being around people who were on the verge of knocking each other’s teeth out but also treatin’ one another as if they’d known them their whole lives just...made me feel at home, I supposed.

Huh. I wondered what that said about my home.

“It’s a lot different from the one in Saint Denis.” He remarked, clearly feeling a bit outta place. I let out a laugh. 

“Heh. Sure is,” I joked. “You can actually enjoy yourself in this one. C’mon. I’ll buy you a drink.”

Wandering over to the bar, Eddie and I squeezed through crowds of people as they all knocked back shots of whiskey and tripped over themselves tryin’ to find the exit, slurring random nonsense to no one in particular.

“Woo!” One man shouted, wobbling his way across the saloon as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “...I feel it now!”

Meanwhile, a nearby working girl found herself unable to look away from Eddie as an alluring grin spread across her face, her gaze following his every move.

“Hey there handsome,” she greeted. “Lookin’ for some fun?”

The pianist politely refused, suddenly sticking a lot closer to me than I think he realized. Fortunately though, we reached the bar before anyone else could approach us.

I slid a couple of coins across the counter, getting the bartender’s attention.

“Two beers.” I ordered.

The bartender reached below and grabbed two bottles, popping off their caps with a soft hiss before giving them to me.

“Here. This’ll shoo away your worries for a while.”

Handing one of ‘em to Eddie, I raised mine and gave a brief toast, smiling at the boy.

“To your health.”

The pianist returned the smile, his expression glowing in the warm lighting of the saloon.

“Thank you.”

We clinked our bottles together and took a generous swig, enjoying this short moment of peace while people came pourin’ in and out of the bar. By now, there was plenty of cowpokes passed out on the tables scattered around the saloon, and the ones who were still standin’ were either playing cards, flirting with the women, or too busy regretting their life choices. 

There was even one man in particular at the end of the bar who was whining quite loudly to himself as he gave the bartender an earful about his life, his words all slurred and exaggerated due to the alcohol. 

Well, I was just glad that someone else was causin’ the scene this time.

“You know,” Eddie thought out loud, bringing me back to reality, “...it’s hard to believe that this is all real.”

I took another sip, peering at him in curiosity. “What you mean?”

The boy leaned on the bar, his elbows resting on its surface as he blankly stared ahead.

“It’s just difficult to grasp the fact that, a couple weeks ago, I was nothing but a pianist with his head in the clouds...scraping to get by in that dreadful city. My only concerns were earning money, and putting on a good show for the people of Saint Denis. I didn’t know a damn thing about living in the wilds, or shooting guns, or hunting -- I was clueless.”

Eddie threw a loving smirk in my direction, his green eyes twinkling daringly.

“But now,” he continued, “here I am. Out in the open, chasing bounties, riding across this beautiful country...with someone I never expected to be my friend.”

I let out a chuckle, lookin’ down my beer bottle. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m a much worse enemy.”

Eddie chortled. “I didn’t mean it like that, you fool. I’m glad to be with you. I mean, I know our situation’s actually quite dire, but...it could be worse. One of us could’ve died at that gala -- or even both of us -- and yet, here we are. We made it. We’re surviving.”

I nodded, raising my bottle to that. “That we are. And we ain’t stopping.”

The pianist took a sip of his own beer, his gaze suddenly flicking over to the Poker table in the corner of the saloon. It looked like two of the seats had just been opened, and judging by the pile of chips sittin’ in the center, the game was at its peak now. 

Eddie gave me a hesitant glance, his face covered in excitement.

“Could we...play a few rounds?”

I raised a brow out of surprise, instantly doing a double take. I had to admit: Eddie didn’t seem like the type o’ feller to enjoy gambling.

“...You play Poker?” I asked.

He shrugged shyly, smiling at me. “A little.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

Eddie laid out his cards on the table, presenting a full house as a simultaneous groan of defeat emitted from the other players.

I tossed my hand back to the dealer, muttering under my breath.

“...A little, my ass.”

The dealer stacked the cards back together, passing them over to the next person as Eddie gathered his prize and proudly added it to his collection of chips. I guessed this pianist weren’t as “clueless” as he claimed. 

“Whoo...!” one of the players breathed out -- Sidney, I think his name was -- as he leaned back in his chair. “You are one lucky son of a gun. ...Who are you, anyway? I ain’t never seen you ‘round Valentine before.”

The boy slipped his cards into his hands, his expression remaining completely neutral.

“My name’s Nathaniel,” he replied. “Just passing through with my friend here. We don’t plan to stay for long.”

Another guy called Lewis let out a sigh. “Well, I hope you fellas didn’t come here for the gunsmith.”

I threw in my blind. “Why’s that?”

“There was quite a line outside the store earlier today,” he explained, shuffling the cards. “Looks like a lotta people are stockin’ up on guns and ammo recently. Picked the place clean. Not much left.”

“That so?” I asked.

He nodded. “That’s so.”

Sidney jumped back in. “It makes sense, though. You been payin’ attention to the news lately? There’s a string of robberies going across the country right now. Not to mention that hellish gunfight that happened in Saint Denis a few days ago. Accordin’ to the paper boy, loads of people was killed in that shootout. And the ones who survived was robbed of all their money. The law’s on high alert now.”

Eddie’s head perked up in interest at that, and he eyed Sidney with a suspicious glare. “That so?”

Sidney casually nodded back. “...That’s so.”

“Well,” Lewis began dealing the cards, “all I know is I’m glad to be out here and not in the city. Too many rules and regulations in places like that. That’s why common criminals thrive there. Easier to evade written laws than a bullet. Pull somethin’ like that in Valentine though, and Sheriff Mallory will shoot you down. As will the rest of us.”

Sidney took a peek at his cards, tossing in his bet. “I’m hopin’ it don’t ever come to that. Valentine’s a peaceful enough town. Folk work hard here. We live honest lives. Last thing we need’s some outlaws muckin’ that up for us.”

I subtly tilted the rim of my hat down and focused entirely on my hand, suddenly feelin’ as if I was wearing my wanted poster on my goddamned face.

It looked like I had pocket aces. Not a bad start.

I called, placing some of my chips in the middle of the table.

“So...” Lewis continued, taking his turn, “what’re y’all two doing here anyway? Your friend said you ain’t staying here long. You got a destination?”

“Plannin’ to head up north,” I lied. “Try and find some work in Van Horn or Annesburg.”

“Well good luck,” he wished as Eddie took his turn. “I know it’s hard to find a stable job these days. Or a job at all. Annesburg’s a good place to start if you don’t mind breathin’ out coal dust. As for Van Horn, I hear there ain’t really much out there, ‘cept for a saloon that attracts travelers of all types.”

I threw in another bet. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lewis placed his hand down and laid out three community cards, revealing a pair of eight’s and a jack.

“...Shit.” Sidney murmured, folding upon seeing them.

“You really are an unlucky bastard, ain’t you?” Lewis remarked, earning a glare from the other man.

“Hey, keep your thoughts to yoursel--”

Interrupting the game, a new patron suddenly marched into the saloon with a blatant shove as he prowled through the swinging doors, causing everyone’s heads to turn before falling silent.

The man was considerably well-dressed compared to the other folk in this town and wore a stark-black suit along with a Paragon Town hat, his face mostly covered by its looming shadow.

And as if he wasn’t intimidating enough, there was also a trio of men following behind him, all of ‘em armed and clearly lookin’ for trouble. Shit. Who were these jokers?

Coming to a halt, the man in the front took a moment to scan the saloon like a hawk as he observed every single person’s face, obviously searching for someone. 

There was a certain air to him that seemed familiar to me, and I couldn’t help but feel like I’d seen this man before...but where? This man weren’t no enemy of mine. And he definitely weren’t no friend. So who the hell was I lookin’ at?

I squinted my eyes, examining his features closely. 

He had a squarish face accompanied by a permanent scowl, a structured nose that had evidently been broken before, a deep, cleft chin, and there was a prominent scar weighing down the right side of his mouth, forcing it into a frown.

I paused, a pang of realization suddenly hitting me.

That was Archibald Hill. The other bounty I saw at the sheriff’s office in Rhodes. Apparently, he was one of them Lemoyne Raiders. What the hell was he doin’ in Valentine?

Hill’s stern gaze landed on me, and his entire body turned in my direction. 

He took a few steps forward, the men behind him following his every move.

“You there.” Archibald called out, his low voice booming across the saloon. 

I casually glanced around, confused about the whole situation before addressing him.

“...Do I know you?” I asked. 

“No,” Hill answered, sauntering towards me, “and I don’t know you either. ...But I know what you done. You the bounty hunter turned them Arlington Twins in. Ain’t you.”

I silently scoffed to myself. Shoulda guessed he was workin’ with that pair. I supposed it only made sense though, considering they was both robbing folks in Lemoyne’s countryside. I just never expected outlaws to cooperate. Usually, gunfire was the only type of communication we used. 

I remained in my seat and simply paid the man no mind, not wanting to spark any sort of conflict just yet.

“I ain’t got no clue what you talkin’ about.” I denied. But Archibald didn’t buy it.

“Oh, I think you do,” he countered. “Thanks to your efforts, Minnie and Jesse are now swingin’ on display for all of Rhodes to see, and the crows have already made quite a feast out of ‘em. All for a hundred bucks.”

The men behind Archibald subtly unholstered their pistols, getting ready for a fight. Goddammit. I guessed peace was no longer an option.

I stood up from my chair and confronted the Lemoyne Raider, casually lighting a cigarette.

“...I think you should leave, partner.” I quietly warned, staring him down as I struck a match.

Archibald didn’t move a single muscle. 

“Neither of us is goin’ anywhere, cowboy,” he taunted. “Especially not after what you’ve done. See, that train you prevented the Arlingtons from robbing -- it was carrying a whole lotta valuables. Valuables...belonging to me.”

I scoffed in amusement. “You mean valuables that you was gonna steal.”

Hill reached down and swatted the flaps of his coat to the side, revealing an impressive gunbelt as he rested a hand on the grip of his revolver.

“Yes,” he growled, his glare piercing through me. “...Because I take what’s mine.”

Glancing back at Eddie, I let out an annoyed sigh and loosely shook my head, putting out the cigarette underneath my boot as I thought about what to do next.

“Well...” I said with an innocent shrug, “...I don’t.”

Whipping out my revolver, I instantly fired a bullet directly into the center of Archibald’s forehead and killed the man on the spot, causing the outlaw’s mouth to drop open as he froze.

There was a narrow stream of blood now leaking out of his bullet wound, and with every second he spent standing there, the more the other patrons in the saloon appeared to nail their eyes onto him, morbidly intrigued by the sudden shooting.

Archibald’s body slowly began to tilt, and he finally collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud as the entire bar fell silent.

“...H-Holy shit...!” One of Hill’s men exclaimed out of shock, fumbling for their pistol. “You...you son-of-a-bitch!”

Before they even had a chance to aim however, Eddie had already shot their pistol straight outta their grasp with a dead-eye’s accuracy and stepped to my side, leading the other two men to reach for their own guns.

Just as they prepared their weapons though, I immediately cocked my revolver at the hip and fired two extra bullets into their heads, sending them tumblin’ backwards like a pair of toppling towers.

The last remaining raider threw his hands in the air, paralyzed by the barrels of our firearms.

“Ain’t often a man lingers ‘round his own grave,” I threatened him. “You sure you wanna stay, boy?”

Eddie pulled the hammer down on his Schofield, prepared to shoot at a moment’s notice.

Taking a moment to steadily back away from us and get his bearings, the raider visibly gulped and hurriedly broke into a sprint before fleeing the saloon, leaving me and Eddie alone as we stared at Archibald’s corpse in unison.

I put my revolver away and bent down, hoisting the outlaw’s body over my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Eddie questioned, his gaze followin’ me as I exited the building.

“Gettin’ us an extra seventy-five dollars,” I replied. “You coming?”

The boy hesitated for a minute and looked around the bar in a baffled manner, quickly taggin’ along once he snatched Hill’s gun for himself. Heh. It looked like he was startin’ to pick up my habits. Wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, to be honest.

I took one last glance at the bartender before walkin’ through the doors, earning a neutral response from him.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured, holding his hands up. “I saw the whole thing. You had no choice. You had to use your equalizer.”

I nodded thankfully. “Appreciate it. Well, I’ll, ah...let Mallory know ‘bout the rest of the bodies decorating this here establishment. In the meantime, I think it’s best if I get as far away as possible from here. Good day.”

~~~~~~~~~~

MIDNIGHT

OUTSIDE THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE

Strolling out of the office with a brand new clip of cash in hand, I stepped down the short stairs and counted the money, deciding how to split it between me and Eddie while the boy waited by the hitching post.

I couldn’t lie -- ever since that Poker game, the musician’s behavior had been a bit more dour than usual, and it almost seemed like he was angry at me. 

Was he upset ‘cause I shot all those men? Did he not want me to do it? I mean, it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d seen me kill someone, and I doubted it’d be the last...but right now, Eddie was actin’ strange. I just had no clue why.

“...Eddie?” I said, approaching the boy. At the moment, he was examining the gun he took from Archibald and mindlessly playin’ with its empty cylinder, flicking it in and out of place.

He stopped at the sound of his name and silently acknowledged me, his expression riddled with a sense of betrayal. What was goin’ on?

“Eddie,” I repeated. “Everything alright?”

The pianist aimlessly stared at the muddy ground, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. He was clearly thinkin’ about something big, and the longer he went without saying anything, the less I wanted to hear it.

Eddie took a deep breath, keeping himself calm.

“During the Poker game,” he recalled, “Sidney said something about the gala in Saint Denis. Said that everyone there was either killed or robbed.”

I stepped in front of the boy, trying to get him to look at me.

“Yeah, he did. What of it?”

Eddie glared at me, coming to a conclusion. “That’s the second time a place I’ve brought you to has been robbed.”

My heart stopped in my chest. What was he implying? 

“Eddie...” I whispered, “...what...what’re you saying?”

He let out a heartbroken sigh, clenching his jaw in anger.

“I know I can be naive,” he fired back, “but I’m not stupid, Arthur. You said it yourself -- you’ve committed crimes in the past. So why is it that everywhere I take you to ends up being robbed? First, it was the theater. Then, it was the gala...”

Eddie’s eyes turned glossy with tears. “...Have you been using me, Arthur? Do you even consider me to be an actual friend? Or a lover? Am I nothing but a key to you? A way to open doors that you would otherwise have to break down? What is going on, Arthur? If that’s even your real name.”

I ended up being at a loss for words, not only disgusted with myself for hurting Eddie like this, but also frightened now that he had figured out the truth.

Goddammit, you absolute moron. I scolded myself.

I knew I should’ve told him sooner. I knew I should’ve confessed, and I knew I couldn’t keep this secret forever. But like the snake I was, I cowered away from every chance I got and only strung him along even further, completely taking advantage of the boy.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Out of instinct, I placed a comforting hand on the pianist’s shoulder, only to be swatted away. 

Christ. I had really gone and screwed it up this time, hadn’t I.

“Eddie,” I said in a soothing tone, stumbling over my own words, “...listen. You...you got me. Okay? You’re right. The truth is...I am an outlaw. I have been for most of my life. And...I did rob the theater. In fact, the man you was holdin’ at gunpoint backstage...”

Eddie’s head perked up in remembrance, and he let out a shaky breath. 

“...That was you?” He asked.

I nodded stiffly, both reluctant and eager to get the truth out in the open.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “And those men I brought with me to the gala -- Kilgore and O’Malley -- they’re outlaws, too. They been at this even longer than I have. I weren’t lyin’ when I said they raised me.”

I gently reached for Eddie’s hand, desperately trying to climb outta this hole I’d dug.

“Look...maybe I should just start from the beginning.”

I led the musician to a nearby bench and sat down beside him, still holdin’ on to his hand as I thought about how on Earth I was gonna explain this mess to the boy.

I knew it was probably stupid to tell this to someone who weren’t even part of the gang -- and I had no doubts Dutch would be outraged if he learned about this -- but after all the bullshit I had put Eddie through, I figured he deserved to know the truth. Even if it wasn’t safe for him to know.

I braced myself for his reaction, deciding to open up about all my secrets.

“...I’m part of a gang, Eddie,” I started off. “The Van der Linde gang. I’ve been ridin’ with them for over twenty years now. Ever since I was a boy. In fact, I was actually the first one they ‘recruited.’ Back then though, we weren’t even considered a gang. It was just Dutch and Hosea, tryin’ to raise this unruly orphan they’d picked up from the streets. You know them as Tacitus and Aiden.”

The boy seemed less agitated now and listened to my story intently, willing to hear me out.

“Go on.” He urged.

“Well...” I continued, “our gang arrived at Saint Denis not too long before I met you. Dutch already had ideas brewin’ about the theater and the bank by then, and the gala was something I discovered on my own. Originally, we planned to just slip in and outta the city before anyone could even figure out who we were, or what happened...but then...I met you.”

Eddie paused. “Wait...so you didn’t befriend me for the sake of the robberies?”

“No. You were never part of our plans, and I never meant to drag you into this nightmare. I didn’t even know you was involved with the theater or the gala. You were just someone I liked bein’ around...no matter how foolish it may’ve been. I truly do care about you, Eddie. More than I probably show it.”

That appeared to relieve the pianist, and he even looked somewhat apologetic for the way he lashed out at me earlier. But it weren’t his fault. None of this was.

“I’m sorry I lied to you, Eddie,” I finally said. “I really thought it was for the best. I thought you’d be safer if you didn’t know. But...you’re well aware of how much of a fool I can be.

Eddie gave me a small, but sincere smile. “Yes, I am.” 

He leaned forward and planted a brief kiss on my lips, afterwards resting his head on my shoulder.

“Thank you for trusting me with this, Arthur. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, but I don’t exactly have the easiest time trusting people. You know this. I was just afraid that nothing we had was genuine. That...this had all been some sort of ruse. But I shouldn’t have doubted you so easily. I see that now. After all, you’ve saved my life more times than I can count. You’ve earned my trust. Just...promise you won’t lie to me again.”

I tightened my hand around Eddie’s and pulled the boy closer as the two of us sat underneath the moonlight, peacefully watchin’ the night pass by.

“I won’t. I promise.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, I quietly thought to myself while Eddie relaxed against me, shutting his eyes in content.

I couldn’t believe I actually managed to save my relationship with him. I mean, the last time one of my lovers found out I was an outlaw, they ended up calling off the engagement and marryin’ another man. 

I didn’t blame Mary for what she did -- in fact, I understood where she was coming from -- but at the same time...it did hurt a whole lot to lose her like that. After all, we spent so long falling in love with each other, and trickin’ ourselves into believing that nothing could separate us. So, to have her drop out of my life in such an abrupt manner -- due to a single man’s opinion -- it made me question the foundation of all my relationships.

But now, I could see that Eddie truly was a treasure. Even when he was afraid; even when he suspected that everything I’d done with him had been a lie...he still listened. He still tried to understand, and most importantly, he still gave me a second chance. And I’d be damned if I didn’t take it.

Eddie was the only thing that mattered to me now, and I was going to do everything within my power to protect him. Regardless of whatever happened to us.

Regardless of any man’s opinion.


	15. Arrival

From Arthur’s POV

ONE MONTH LATER

RYAN RESIDENCE, SAINT DENIS

Eddie and I trotted underneath the calm night sky, steadily making our way back to the pianist’s house as the rest of the city dimmed down with the fading of the sun.

By now, the boy and I had been ridin’ all over this country for the past few weeks -- bounty hunting, moving from town to town, hidin’ from Rose’s men -- and strangely enough...part of me was sad that it was all finally coming to an end, despite the danger we were in.

Spending time with that kid...it made me feel free. Made me feel like I didn’t have a single, goddamned worry in the world. And somethin’ about him just gave me the courage to step outta this angry, spiteful shell I had created. I mean, I was still grumpy...but at least when I was with Eddie, I knew that weren’t all there was to me.

As much as I enjoyed bein’ around the musician though, I figured I had dragged him across the wilds for long enough and that it was time to bring the boy home, now that things had calmed down in Saint Denis.

Neither of us had set foot anywhere near the city ever since that god-awful shootout, and it looked like Dutch had also kept his distance from the “civilized” land, allowing the local law to lower their guard a bit. And on top of that, I didn’t see any sign of Atticus or his men, which meant they had probably given up their search in this part of Lemoyne.

Eddie should’ve been safe for the time being, and I certainly prayed I was right.

Hitching our horses outside the property’s fence, I walked the pianist to the front door as the both of us stretched our arms and neck, stiff from the long ride home.

It had been quite a while since I last saw this house, and the minute I laid eyes upon it, memories started flooding my head like a wave on the shore.

I remembered the first day I met Eddie; when he asked me to come to his house to hear one of his compositions. Life seemed so much simpler back then, and part o’ me still couldn’t believe how much we had been through since those days.

Dealin’ with Middleton, surviving Rose’s assassins, hunting the Arlington Twins and Archibald Hill -- Eddie and I truly were almost unstoppable when working together. I mean, sure, the kid might not’ve been as good a gunslinger as Dutch, or Hosea, or even me...but he sure as hell had learned a lot since our first encounter. And I...I was proud of him. Extremely proud.

“Welp, here we are,” I said, gently holding Eddie’s hand as we walked through the front door. “Home sweet home.”

The pianist let out a content sigh and took his hat off, placing it on a nearby end table as he settled in.

“Never thought I’d say it, but...I missed Saint Denis. It’ll be nice to sleep in an actual bed again. I’m exhausted.”

I laughed at that. “I bet.”

Eddie gazed at me and beamed brightly, bringing out the soft-hearted side of him I had grown so familiar with.

“Thank you for all your help these past few weeks, Arthur. You didn’t have to stay and help me survive out there...but you did. I won’t forget it.”

I shrugged, holding up a casual hand. “Ah, don’t mention it. Least I could do. ...You, um...you gonna be okay by yourself? I mean, I know things have calmed down here, but still, you never know.”

The boy slipped off his coat and threw it over a couch. “I should be alright. You’ve shown me how to defend myself, after all. And if anything does happen, I promise you’ll be the first one to know.”

“Good,” I said. “Just...stay alert, okay? And be well.” 

“The same goes for you,” Eddie replied. “I can’t imagine running with a gang is anywhere near secure. So, stay safe.”

I let out a quiet chuckle. “Ain’t no such thing as safe out there, but I’ll do my best.”

A doubtful thought suddenly popped up in my mind, and I gazed at Eddie for a moment before workin’ up the courage to ask him about it.

“...You...sure you’re okay with me bein’ an outlaw?” I checked. He crossed his arms.

“Well...I wouldn’t say I’m okay with it,” he admitted. “But if you’ve been an outlaw for this long, I assume it’s because you have no choice.”

I nodded somberly. “And you’d be correct. For now, anyway. I ain’t really got any other options at the moment.”

The boy didn’t seem bothered. “Well then, you do what you have to do.”

I was quiet in response, leading Eddie to cock his head at me as he effortlessly pulled out any secrets I was hidin’ behind my stone-cold expression.

“...You don’t believe me.” He concluded.

I threw a limp hand in the air, patting my lap once it fell back down.

“There you go again. Readin’ me like a goddamned book.”

Eddie giggled and took a few steps forward, affectionately rubbing the side of my arm.

“You should know it’s pointless to keep things from me by now, Arthur. What’s on your mind?”

A conflicted sigh escaped me.

“It’s just...” I glanced around the house in uncertainty, “...you ain’t the first person I been with, Eddie. Ain’t the first person to learn about all...this. See... there was this girl a long time ago that I loved. Her name was Mary. I met her when I was young and stupid -- I’m still stupid now, mind you -- but she played me for a fiddle like no one else alive. We was even engaged at one point.”

Eddie glanced at my ringless finger, a look of sorrow spreading across his face.

“Was?”

I clenched my jaw, trying not to open up too much.

“...Her daddy found out I was an outlaw,” I explained. “Learned about the kinda life I had. About what I did...and he hated it. Hated me even more. Eventually, we...called off the engagement, and Mary went off and settled down with some other man.”

The boy frowned out of sympathy. “I mean...I’m glad you’re with me now, but I’m also sorry you had to go through that.”

I shook it off. “Nah, don’t be. Like I said -- it was a long time ago. I guess...I’m just surprised you didn’t take off like she did when you found out I was workin’ with Dutch goddamn Van der Linde. That’s usually the response I get.”

Eddie almost looked insulted. “What-- you really thought I was just going to...abandon you? Because of that?”

“Wouldn’t blame you.”

The pianist grabbed my hand, holding it in a reassuring manner.

“Arthur...I may not approve of what you do, or the way you’ve hurt people, but you are a good man. In your own, twisted way. In fact, you’re the last person I’d want to leave behind, and you’re fooling yourself if you think I ever will.”

I fell silent, admittedly a bit surprised at the response. I was expectin’ Eddie to be at least a little dubious about our relationship, considering I was a wanted man in more states than I could count, but the man seemed adamant in his decision to stay with me. And I loved him even more for it.

I lightened my tone slightly and gripped Eddie’s hand in return, saying a final goodbye to him before taking my leave.

“...Thank you, Eddie,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. “I still doubt I’m a good man like you claim, but...I must’ve done somethin’ right to end up with you. Well, anyway, I’ll let you get some sleep. I know you’re tired, and you got a lot to attend to. Just be careful, okay? And come to me if you ever need anything.”

The boy’s smile came back. “I will. But you have to take care of yourself, too.” He pecked a tender kiss on my lips. “Goodnight, Arthur. I hope our paths cross again soon. I’d love to explore the wilds with you sometime.”

I chuckled, heading towards the front door. “You just can’t get enough of the country, can you?”

He shook his head and stayed in the doorway, waving a friendly goodbye as I stepped back out into the cool, dark night.

“Nope. And thanks to you, I probably never will.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

KAMASSA RIVER

Relaxing by the river with my horse, I made no haste to get back to camp as the moon slowly sank its way under the thin clouds, casting a pale but somehow pretty light across the fields surrounding me.

There were only a few hours left until morning, and if I timed this right, I was hopin’ to get back to Shady Belle somewhere close to dawn. I didn’t wanna go galloping into camp in the middle of the night, but I also didn’t wanna deal with the gang when everybody was awake.

For some reason, the people there always seemed to end up roamin’ towards me one way or another, and the last thing I wanted was to be greeted with Swanson’s drunken ramblings, or one of Micah’s attempts at being “friendly.”

I honestly liked Micah even less when he was nice.

Dipping my hand into the river, I cupped some cool water in my palm and washed the grime off my face, suddenly feelin’ much more refreshed at the sensation.

It had been a long time since I was last in the wilderness all by myself, and as much as I missed Eddie’s company already, I couldn’t deny that I appreciated the solitude. Somethin’ about being alone with no one else but my horse just gave me peace of mind, and the longer I lingered here, the less I wanted to return to camp.

Though, I had to confess: I did miss Dutch and Hosea a little. Even if we didn’t always see eye-to-eye. They were like fathers to me, after all. Despite how much we argued sometimes.

Sure, Dutch had been actin’ a bit crazy recently, and things only seemed to be getting worse between him and Hosea...but in the end, we was family. We was a team. There was a strange, deformed love holdin’ us reprobates together, and I just hoped that our escape from the Pinkertons and civilization wouldn’t tear that apart.

I supposed only time would tell.

Standing up from the ground, I wiped the water off my hands and prepared to mount up, only to freeze mid-action when the sound of someone cocking a gun reached my ears.

A familiar, raspy voice greeted me from behind, sending chills down my spine.

“Fancy meetin’ you here, Arthur Morgan,” they growled. “Wanna take a midnight stroll with me?”

Raising my hands in the air, I moved at the speed of a sloth and hesitantly glanced over my shoulder, peering at the face behind the gun as my heart came to a halt.

“...Colm O’Driscoll?” I muttered. “The hell you doin’ out here?”

Before he could respond, my horse started to whinny nervously as a second pair of footsteps emerged from the shadows, their shoes crunching the grass underneath them as a man whom I’d never seen before came into view.

I flicked my eyes to the side, absolutely perplexed by this new face.

This son-of-a-bitch had to be one of the craziest lookin’ fellers I’d ever seen in my life...and that was sayin’ something.

This man had skin so pale to the point where he looked sickly, and it only made the balding red hair on his head stand out even more. He had clearly made some sad attempt to slick it back and tidy it up, but regardless, multiple strands refused to stay in place and stuck out in wild angles, adding to his insane temperament.

Despite his messy hair however, the man actually had quite a groomed beard and wore a black, three-piece suit along with a golden chain hangin’ off the vest...but his clothes didn’t match any of the O’Driscolls I’d seen.

The part about him that really caught my attention though, was the old wound on his face. There was a ghastly scar tearin’ straight through his right eye, forcing it closed and rendering the poor bastard half-blind. Meanwhile, the other one was surrounded by dark circles and crow’s feet, enhancing the nightmarish grin he sported as he examined me.

Just who the hell was this maniac?

“Sorry, partner,” he apologized insincerely, sounding lazy but surprisingly articulate. “I hate to bring weapons to a...civilized discussion, but I hear you aren’t the type to cooperate.”

I scoffed, holding my ground. “Most people aren’t when you aim a gun at their head.”

He chuckled. “True enough. But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll keep those guns up...just as a precaution.”

“And who are you?” I asked, my eyes following his every move. “You an O’Driscoll?”

The man shook his head. “Nah...not an O’Driscoll. Though, truth be told, my name don’t matter much, anyway. Usually, it’s the scars people remember me by.”

I gestured to the faded gash. “How’d you get ‘em?”

He paused for a second, seemingly puzzled by my question as he tilted his head in confusion.

After a moment of thinking though, the man let out an abrupt laugh once it clicked and grinned even wider in realization.

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about my scars...” he corrected, pointing a finger at me. 

His expression sparked with a wicked excitement. 

“...I was talking about yours.”

Giving me no time to react, Colm suddenly bashed the grip of his revolver into the back of my head and knocked me out cold, causin’ the world around me to go dark as a hoarse chortle escaped him and my vision doubled.

There was no one around to help me right now, and before I could do anything to fight back, I could already feel the roughness of a rope wrapping itself around my wrists and ankles.

Shit. What the hell had I gotten myself into now?

The two bastards lifted me onto another horse, mounting up as they carried me away to wherever they pleased.

“...You’re ours now, Morgan,” Colm whispered in my ear, his voice echoing in my head as he watched me slip out of consciousness. “And ain’t no one savin’ you this time...”

~~~~~~~~~~

From Eddie’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

Pouring myself a cup of fresh coffee, I took the warm mug into my hands and sat down in the living room, quietly reading the newspaper as I prepared for the day ahead.

I couldn’t lie. It felt strange not waking up on the ground with Bullet drooling above me, and it felt even stranger to not have Arthur by my side.

I had spent so long traveling with that mysterious man by now that, I actually considered it a privilege to sleep in the same place I woke up in. And I had only been doing this for a month or so. I couldn’t imagine how he felt.

Still, it was nice to be back in the heart of civilization again, despite all the bad memories stalking me here. I doubted I’d be able to revive my career as a performer at the Râleur again, considering how erratic my schedule had become, but there had to be some work for me around town.

I recalled the bartender at the Bastille saying they needed a new pianist, and with my newfound “gunslinging” skills, perhaps there was a chance I could also hunt down a bounty on my own. Though, I had to admit, that wasn’t my first option. I wasn’t nearly as experienced as Arthur, and I didn’t want to get myself killed chasing after a handful of money.

I guessed the Bastille would have to do for now.

Finishing my coffee, I put the mug down and wandered over to the coat rack, preparing to leave. If there was an opportunity for me to get a new job, I wanted to seize it as soon as possible. There were only so many outlaws I could chase if I needed extra money, and as much as I enjoyed the spontaneous nature of the wilderness, I couldn’t deny that stability offered much more comfort. And at the moment, that was what I needed.

Swinging the front door open, I headed out into the crisp morning weather as Bullet greeted me with a welcoming neigh, his tone oddly a tad more agitated than usual. I supposed I wasn’t the only one struggling to adjust to city life.

Just as I began to descend the porch’s steps however, I was presented with a peculiar scene and noticed a lone hat sitting on the ground...just waiting for me to find it.

The hat looked like someone had intentionally positioned it there, and the longer I stared at it, the more my blood turned to ice as I realized who it belonged to.

...Arthur.

Gulping out of fear, I cautiously knelt down and picked up the item, revealing a torn note lying underneath. It didn’t resemble Arthur’s handwriting -- at least, compared to what I saw on his portrait of me -- and there was an unnerving set of initials scribbled at the bottom. No immediate names jumped to mind at the sight of them, but something about the way they were written, and the distant bells they rang in my head just...made me feel uneasy.

I brought the note into my grasp, reading the short message that had been inked onto the surface:

“Come to Caliban’s Seat within twenty-four hours, or next time, I’ll be delivering his head. Hope to see you there, Theodore. -RK”

I froze out of terror, unable to stop myself from shivering like a puppy in the rain as my heart stopped beating altogether.

The only people who called me Theodore were the ones trying to kill me. And the only person I could think of who had those initials...was Rodrick Kingsley. One of Atticus Rose’s most valued gang members.

Despite being nothing but a group of sick, rotten degenerates, Atticus and his men were the equivalent of a dysfunctional family that, for some reason, just couldn’t rip itself apart. They always had each other’s backs and yet, they were also one argument away from stabbing them.

I had seen how much faith Atticus put into his gang...and I had seen just how close they really were.

If Rodrick was here, that meant Atticus was with him.

And they were going to kill Arthur.


	16. First Blood

From Arthur’s POV

CALIBAN’S SEAT, NEW HANOVER

Pain. Cold. Isolation.

These were the only things I could feel at the moment, and the only things that greeted me as I woke up in this rusty, old cabin.

I didn’t know where I was, or who had brought me here, but right now...all I cared about was gettin’ the hell out.

I had been in the hands of the enemy enough times to know when my life was in danger, and I definitely didn’t intend to get killed now. Especially not when Eddie was out there all by himself, and completely oblivious to what was happening.

I had to escape before whoever captured me found him too, and I needed to get him someplace safe.

...I just didn’t know where to start.

Struggling in my restraints, I tried wiggling around a bit, only to realize that I was hangin’ upside-down from a rickety ceiling and dangling in the middle of the room like a worm on a hook. I could hear distant voices chattering outside, and it seemed like I was bein’ held captive in some camp. That meant there was tons of people guarding me.

Shit.

I frantically glanced around the cabin, hurriedly searching for any possible way out. There wasn’t much fillin’ up the small building, and the only piece of furniture I could see was a slim table pushed up against one of the walls. It looked like there were a few tools laid out on its surface, but nothin’ sharp enough to cut me free. Besides, I was too far away from it to even attempt at grabbin’ one of them. Dammit. I’d have to find another solution.

Before I could start hatchin’ any ideas though, the flimsy door suddenly creaked open with a gentle thump as a gust of cold wind seeped through, chillin’ me to the bone.

The same man from before casually strolled inside as he lit a cigar, its soft orange glow barely lighting up his face in the dim atmosphere of the cabin as he approached me.

He gave me a toothy grin from behind the smoke, his cheek wrinkling due to the malicious smile.

“...Morning, sunshine.” He whispered.

I let out a pained groan in response, still a bit dazed from the bash to the head I received earlier.

“You again...?”

The man sighed apathetically. “I know...my face ain’t the most pleasant to wake up to. But show enough resistance, and soon,” he let out a puff of smoke, leaning closer to me, “...you’ll also be seein’ it in the mirror.”

I did my best to swerve away from my nameless captive, turning my head in the other direction.

“...Just get to the point,” I said. “What d’you want...?”

The man observed me for a second, tilting his head down at me as if I was some little kid.

“Answers, Mister Morgan. I want answers. And I hear...that you might have them.”

The rope dug even deeper into my ankles, causing me to let out a strained hiss.

“...Is that so?”

He smirked at me, his face now mere inches away from mine. “Well, I guess we’ll see...won’t we?”

The man took a few steps back and began nonchalantly pacing around the cabin, his one-eyed gaze never leaving me.

“...Does the name Theodore Bishop mean anythin’ to you?” He asked. “Or Eddie Ryan? He goes by both nowadays, more often the latter. You heard of him?”

I froze in shock.

Theodore Bishop? That was Eddie’s “old” name -- the identity we just spent the past month and a half tryin’ to run away from. If this man was askin’ him by that, that meant he was with Atticus Rose.

Shit. I couldn’t tell this bastard a single thing then, no matter how much pain he put me through. I had to keep Eddie safe.

I kept my lips shut tight and shook my head, pretending I didn’t know nothing about it.

“No.” I answered simply.

The man slowly removed the cigar from his lips, furrowing his brow in a skeptical manner.

“...You sure?”

He suddenly drilled the fiery tip of the cigar straight into my collarbone, causing me to let out an agonized yell as smoke rose from the blackened skin and a repulsive sizzling sound reached my ears.

My mind was shrieking at the moment. I couldn’t think through the excruciating pain, and the longer he kept the cigar in the place, the more I writhed and tensed up, powerless to do anything in my position.

He finally removed it after a minute, not even bothering to hide his amusement as his smile grew wider and I let out a deep, raspy breath of relief.

Goddamn this man. For his sake, I hoped I never broke free.

“Does that refresh your memory at all?” He questioned, throwing the cigar away.

I still refused to give in.

“...No.”

The man slipped his hands in his pockets. “You ain’t seen him?”

A frustrated sigh escaped me. “I don’t even know what he looks like...!”

“He’s a young man,” he described. “English. Black hair, green eyes. Works as a performer at the Râleur Theater in Saint Denis. You sure you haven’t seen him?”

I spoke through gritted teeth. “That’s what I said, ain’t it?”

His glare strengthened. “...It sure is.”

The man examined me for a while, his eye narrowing in thought as the gears turned in his head. I had to admit -- there weren’t many people out there who scared me, but this son-of-a-bitch goddamned terrified me.

There was just a certain air him that made me feel like I was playing a game. That all of this was solely for his personal amusement alone, and that he had only captured me so he could use me like some toy to be disposed of. But of course, he’d never say it. That would be too easy for this lunatic.

The man bent down slightly and took a closer look at me, his nose almost touching mine as he uttered one, final question.

“...You really have no idea who I’m talkin’ about, do you?”

He paused for a second, taking my stubborn silence as a confirmation.

“...Well then,” he finally said, backing off, “maybe you can take a good look at him for yourself...once he comes to rescue you.”

My heart began hammering in my chest at that, and the man chuckled at the sight of my horrified expression, his face plastered with a malevolent sense of entertainment.

He knew. This crazy bastard already knew where Eddie was.

This weren’t no interrogation. This was a goddamned trap.

And I was the bait.

The man sauntered away once he knew it had clicked in my head and made his way out the cabin, callin’ for his “associate” now that he was done toying with me as I was left to my own devices.

“Colm!” He barked, swinging the door open. “This fool’s all yours. Do what you want with him -- I don’t care. Just make sure you don’t kill him. In the meantime, I’ll keep watch. I’m sure Mister Bishop will be showin’ up soon, and we wouldn’t wanna disappoint him...” the man grinned at me, “would we?”

Colm wandered inside along with a few other O’Driscolls, all of them cracking their knuckles and preparing for a fight. Only -- I wasn’t gonna be able to fight back.

My captive slithered through the doorway and glanced over his shoulder, saying one, last thing to me as his coat billowed in the powerful wind.

“Consider this retribution, Mister Morgan...for what you did to my assassins. And to Thatcher Middleton.”

~~~~~~~~~~

From Eddie’s POV

CALIBAN’S SEAT

Sneaking around the camp under the pouring rain, I hurried my way behind one of the multiple shacks around the area, trying my absolute best to stay out of sight whilst I searched for Arthur.

There were loads of men guarding this place. Some of them appeared to be part of Rose’s gang, whilst the others were with someone else named Colm O’Driscoll. I didn’t know too much about him, or what his business here was, but based on what I’d heard his people say, there was some sort of feud between him and Dutch Van der Linde: Arthur’s boss.

That would explain why they helped Rodrick capture him.

As for Rodrick himself however, I had yet to see the bastard anywhere. Neither him nor Atticus were in sight, and there weren’t any clues suggesting to their presence at the camp. Though, I had no doubts Rodrick was watching me from afar, just waiting to take his shot whilst I scurried around like a mouse.

I’d have to hurry if I wanted to save Arthur. There was no mercy when it came to Atticus and his gang, and I could only imagine what they had in mind for him.

I just prayed I had the strength to rescue him.

Slipping away just as two O’Driscolls came in my direction, I took cover behind a nearby wall and flattened myself against the wood, eavesdropping on their conversation as they passed by.

“I can’t believe they finally caught the fucker,” one of them said. “Seems like ages we’ve been after the Van der Lindes.”

The other wasn’t so enthusiastic. “I dunno, man.”

The first man shrugged. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well, it’s just...” he lowered his voice, “what if the boy doesn’t come alone? Bishop, or whatever his name is. What if he brings help? ...What if he gets Dutch? You know that man’ll raise hell if he learns we’ve taken Arthur.”

His friend rolled his eyes. “That’s the reason Colm teamed up with Kingsley, dumbass. So if he does bring help, we’ll have enough men to fend ‘em off. But I wouldn’t worry too much. Apparently, this boy ain’t even part o’ the gang. Just some kid who plays the piano for a living. Now, shut up and go keep watch. Rodrick thinks the boy’ll be here soon.”

The second man gave in, throwing his arms up out of defeat.

“Alright, fine. But you’re joining me later.”

Walking off, the O’Driscoll disappeared in the distance whilst his friend stayed in place, taking shelter from the heavy rain inside the shack I was hiding behind. Maybe now would be my chance to get some answers.

Pulling out my knife, I crouched down and snuck through the back door of the building, slightly pushing it ajar before completely creeping in.

The O’Driscoll was currently by himself, and had his back turned to me as he rearranged some of the supplies stored in here, including crates of dynamite, rifles, gun oil, and even moonshine. I guessed this was the shack where they kept all their valuables.

Waiting for the O’Driscoll to conclude his business, I tiptoed behind him after he finished stacking some boxes and swiftly wrapped a restrictive arm around his neck, covering his mouth before aiming the knife directly at his throat.

The man struggled for a moment, only to cease his movement when he noticed the blade threatening to slice him open.

“...Where is he?” I growled. 

He blurted out a response. “W-What? Who...?!”

“The Van der Linde. Where are you keeping him?”

The man only stuttered more. “I-I dunno! I didn’t bring him here! He’s probably in one of the shacks!”

I clenched my jaw in annoyance. “Which one?”

“I really don’t know! M-Maybe in the cabin to the north of the camp? That’s where Colm usually takes most of our prisoners! Th-That’s all I know! I swear! Who the fuck even are you?!”

I tightened my hold on the knife, preparing to strike.

“Just some kid who plays the piano.”

Slamming the knife’s grip into his head, I knocked the O’Driscoll out and dragged his limp body behind a pile of crates, looting his double-barreled shotgun in the process. So far, no one else had detected me, and judging by the calm state of the camp, I assumed Arthur hadn’t attempted to escape yet. I still had some time to move, albeit not much. I’d have to think of something fast.

Interrupting my thoughts, the sudden sound of clamoring brought my attention to the shack’s tiny window, leading me to sneak over in order to see what was going on.

Just outside, I spotted Colm O’Driscoll and a handful of his men dragging a beaten Arthur to the center of the camp, probably hoping to use him as bait.

The man looked like he had been punched, burnt, cut, and I had no doubts he’d met Mister Kingsley already based on the multiple scars decorating his body.

I could feel my blood boiling. No matter how much he may have believed it, Arthur didn’t deserve this type of treatment. He was simply a good Samaritan who had been pulled into this mess because of me, and I was going to do everything within my power to make sure he got out of it.

I just didn’t know how. Originally, I had planned to slip Arthur out of the cabin they locked him in, but now he was in the middle of the camp. So not only was he out in the open, everyone could also see him. How the hell was I supposed to break him out now?

I desperately searched around the shack, hoping to find something I could use. I mean, I had a shotgun now, but that wasn’t going to anything against an entire gang. I needed something that could take out multiple people at once, and also keep their attention off Arthur in the process. If I gave them enough time to react, they’d kill him within a heartbeat. So whatever I did, it was going to have to take them by surprise.

My eyes suddenly landed on the crates of dynamite sitting in the corner, giving me an idea for a plan that I never thought I would have.

It was going to be tricky, and I’d have to be as quiet as a mouse, but if it meant Arthur could go back home...then it was worth it.

I forced myself to move away from my hiding spot, eager to get to work as I prepared my trap. Both Colm and Rodrick were going to regret ever putting Arthur’s life in danger -- but if things went according to plan today, they’d never attempt it again.

~~~~~~~~~~

From Arthur’s POV

A LITTLE LATER

Throwing another punch at me, Colm pounded his fist against the bruises already growing on my skin as his men laughed in unison and I toppled into the muddy ground, only to be hoisted back up again into Colm’s grasp.

By now, my entire body was aching in severe pain, and the more these O’Driscolls beat me to a pulp, the less I believed I gonna survive the day.

Shit. What the hell was I gonna do?

No one in the gang knew where I was. Not Hosea, not Charles, and certainly not Dutch. As far as they was concerned, Eddie and I were still runnin’ around the country, hiding away from Atticus and his men. They had no idea that I’d been snatched by some maniac, and the only person I could think of who’d come to my rescue was the last man I wanted to put in danger.

Goddammit...if Eddie showed up, I was gonna shoot that boy myself. It was too dangerous for him to come here, and I definitely didn’t want him to share my fate.

Jabbing his knuckles into my ribs, Colm wrapped an arm around my neck and pulled out his gun, almost impaling the barrel straight through my temple as he leaned in close.

“Look at the big, bad wolf now!” He taunted with a rough cackle. “Not so tough now, are you...Mister Morgan? Oh, if only good ol’ Dutch could see you...! How mad that man would be!”

I struggled in his hold, gritting my teeth. “Let me go, Colm...! We both got bigger problems to worry ‘bout. Trust me. You ain’t doin’ yourself no favors getting involved with these folk. They’re just gonna kill you once they get what they want! ...If I don’t kill you first, that is.”

He chuckled at that. “You? ...Kill me? You can hardly stand on your own, big man! You ain’t gonna be doing much ‘cept for dying. And when that happens...” Colm whispered in my ear, “...I'mma be laughing.”

Before the O’Driscoll could torment me any further, a lone set of footsteps suddenly approached us from the front, interrupting our “conversation” and causing us to look ahead.

Marchin’ straight towards the center of the camp under the cold, heavy rain, I spotted none other than Eddie himself as he trudged through the thick mud, armed with a shotgun and ready to go to war.

Christ Almighty...! What the hell was that fool doin’ here?!

The boy raised his shotgun at Colm and inched closer towards him, gulping in anxiety as droplets of rain and sweat rolled down his forehead.

“L-Let him go, O’Driscoll!” He demanded, his tone filled with fear. Or was it? Part of me suspected Eddie was pretendin’ to be the same, innocent boy he was when we first met as a way to gain the upper hand. Smart kid.

Colm took the bait and pressed the gun deeper into my temple, cocking his head in a patronizing manner. “...And if I don’t?”

Eddie stammered, holding his ground. “...Or I’ll...I’ll shoot you!”

That only made Colm’s nasty smile stretch wider and he let out a raspy laugh, his men howling along with him.

“This...” he mocked, gesturing towards Eddie as he smirked at me, “...this...is your knight in shinin’ armor...?! Some lil’ lost soul come across the pond, searching for his one, true love?”

He wiped away fake tears from his eye and shook his head in disbelief, afterwards pulling down the hammer on his gun.

“Hoo, I never knew you was such a hopeless romantic, Morgan. But I guess that’s why you still runnin’ with Dutch, ain’t it? You lot is always chasin’ some nonexistent treasure on the other side o’ the world. ...Heh. Guess you finally found yours. Wonder what would happen...if I put a bullet in him?”

“Leave the boy outta this, Colm!” I shouted, growing progressively more restless. “He ain’t got nothin’ to do with this, or Dutch! He’s just a goddamn kid!”

Colm laughed wickedly, grinning in Eddie’s direction.

“So? Kids die as well as adults, I’ve heard. ...Mind if I test that theory?”

I turned to the pianist, practically begging him to leave.

“Eddie, listen to me. Get the hell outta here! NOW! It ain’t worth it...! Go back home! Forget about me!”

The O’Driscoll frowned playfully, pouting in a condescending manner.

“Aww, would ya look at that? The big brute ain’t so emotionless, after all. Never would’ve guessed you was sweet on boys, Morgan. But I suppose it makes sense, seein’ as how no woman’s dumb enough to have you.”

Eddie ignored the snickers from his men and simply strengthened his hold on the shotgun, steadily aiming the barrel straight at Colm while I desperately tried to get his attention.

“Don’t do it!” I yelled over the merciless wind as the other O’Driscolls pointed their weapons at the boy. But he wasn’t listening.

“Eddie!” I exclaimed again, spitting rain from my mouth. “Listen to me, goddammit! Put the gun down...and run!”

Colm firmly held the revolver to my head, his finger inching over its trigger as he glared at the pianist with a daring look in his eyes.

“Yes, Eddie...” he goaded. “Be a good boy, and run...”

I could hear the sharp clicks of the other O’Driscolls cocking their guns, every single one of us now on the other end of a barrel.

By now, we was all soaked head-to-toe in water -- dirty and shiverin’ in the wind -- and the more rain that flooded through the land, the more Colm merely saw it as a chance to wash away the bloodshed that was about to commence. 

I shut my eyes and braced myself for the storm that was about to come, knowing damn-well there was nothin’ I could say or do that would change Eddie’s mind.

The boy readied his weapon and took a deep breath, preparing to fire.

He rested his finger on the trigger.

“I don’t run.”

Takin’ us all by surprise, Eddie suddenly diverted his line of fire and shot through the window of a nearby shack, causing the entire building to explode into a thousand pieces as the impact shook the ground.

“What the hell?!” Colm blurted out, completely forgettin’ I was even there as he tried to keep his balance. But it weren’t over just yet.

Snaking its way across the grass, the fire followed a trail of oil that led it directly towards the next cabin, instantly igniting the dynamite that had been placed in that one as well as a distant sizzling sound reached our ears.

The cabin erupted into a colossal mass of flames with a thunderous boom, the chaos frightening the gang’s horses as they broke free from their hitching posts and galloped frantically all over the camp, trampling over O’Driscolls left and right.

“HOLY SHIT!” One of them screamed, watching helplessly as the rest of the camp was consumed by fire.

One after another, each of the cabins blew up in a line of explosions, the force sending shards of glass and broken splinters flyin’ all over the place while Colm’s men desperately tried to escape the mayhem, running around like headless chickens as they patted out the fire catching onto their clothes.

And as if that weren’t enough, Eddie used the remaining shell in his shotgun to blast away the O’Driscolls surrounding me, afterwards throwing the empty weapon away and whipping out his own revolvers before gunning down any survivors.

He fired a bullet into Colm’s arm, forcing the man to let me go as I slammed an elbow into his face, sending him straight into an unconscious state.

Eddie guided me to cover, giving me one of his revolvers while the two of us battled any remaining O’Driscolls.

“You’re outta your goddamn mind!” I exclaimed, diving behind a nearby wagon.

The pianist hid behind a tree, peeking out every once in a while to shoot down enemies as oncoming bullets grazed the side of the trunk.

“Maybe, but I’m alive.” Eddie reached over and allowed me to lean on him, sporadically firing behind us as he led me to his horse.

“Come on!” He urged, noticing my struggle. “Bullet’s not far from here. We can escape!”

I glanced back what looked like Hell’s gate raging in the middle of the camp, pushing myself to keep going.

“Oh, believe me...I have no intentions on staying...!”

Hauling me away from the battlefield, Eddie practically dragged me to his horse who was waiting just in the outskirts the camp, both of us growing more and more panicked as Colm’s men began to chase us.

Bullet neighed out of fear, only managing to stay somewhat calm due to the pianist’s presence as he helped me up.

“Oh, it’s good to see you, boy.” I greeted the regal animal, trying my best not to pass out while Eddie mounted up.

The musician took hold of the reins, not even bothering to look back before whipping them and commanding Bullet to gallop away from the scene.

“Hold on, we’re almost out of here!” He assured me.

Bolting across the Heartlands with the speed of lightning, Eddie and I ducked and swerved to avoid the numerous shots being fired at us as we sprinted through the relentless rain, digging up clumps of grass with how fast we was riding.

By now, there was probably a dozen O’Driscolls hunting us down, and if we didn’t find someplace to hide soon, they would catch up to us, too.

I shot a few sloppy bullets at them, unable to aim as well as usual as Eddie approached a railroad in the distance.

Even in my delirious state, I couldn’t help but notice the train that was powerin’ its way over the tracks, a bit too close for comfort. It looked like it would be long past us by the time we reached the railroad, and I didn’t much like our chances of makin’ it across...but of course, that didn’t stop Eddie.

I pointed to the train, alerting the boy.

“Eddie...! Up ahead!”

He soldiered on. “I see it. We have to beat the train if we want to get rid of these bastards!”

I darted my eyes around in a panicked manner, searching for another solution.

“You sure we can’t just shoot ‘em?!”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m out of ammo, and we don’t have enough left to take down that many men. That train is our only way out of here.”

I pulled the hammer down on my revolver, making the best of my last few shots.

“Aw, hell...!”

Rushing towards the tracks, Eddie snapped the reins with a sense of urgency as the train’s whistle blared in the distance, echoing throughout the entire area while Bullet raced as fast as he could. The O’Driscolls were slowly but surely gainin’ on us, and with every step we took, it seemed like they took two more. We would have to move a lot quicker than this if we had any hope of escaping.

Pushing his horse to pick up the pace, Eddie and I held our breaths as we approached the railroad, neither of us takin’ our eyes off the other side.

We couldn’t fall back now, and we definitely couldn’t let that goddamned train run us over. We had to get the hell outta here, and we had to reach safety. Makin’ it across was our only option.

Nearly leaping over the tracks, Eddie threw the three of us to the other side as the train practically grazed my back, barreling right in front of the O’Driscolls and preventing them from going any further while we rode to freedom.

There didn’t seem to be anymore enemies in sight, and judging by the lack of gunfire, I assumed they had given up in their pursuit.

We had escaped.

Finally slowing down to a halt once we were alone, Eddie and I took a moment to catch our breaths as we rested in the middle of nowhere, wonderin’ where the hell to go from here.

We couldn’t return to Saint Denis. That was where Colm and that other lunatic cornered me in the first place -- and Eddie too, no doubt. It was no longer safe for the boy to stay there, and I sure as hell had no plans to go back to that god-awful city anytime soon.

I just didn’t know what other choices we had.

Turning around in his saddle, Eddie gently brought his hands to my face and lifted my chin, staring intently into my eyes as he examined my wounds.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice quiet due to distress, “Arthur, are you okay?”

I let out a strained groan, finding comfort in Eddie’s soft grasp.

“...You damn fool...!” I scolded. “...What the hell was you thinking? Comin’ after me like that. You coulda--” a sting of pain flashed throughout me, causing me to hiss. “You coulda gotten killed...!”

The boy ran his fingers through my hair, attempting to soothe me.

“You didn’t really expect me to just leave you behind, did you?”

I clutched my ribs, still sore from the beating Colm gave me. “No...and that’s why I was worried.”

Eddie caressed my cheeks, forcing me to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” he apologized, “but I’ve saved myself enough times. When Atticus killed my father, I ran. When he sent Thatcher to kill my mother, I ran. And when my sister cried for help after she had been cornered by an assassin...” Eddie’s voice faltered, “...I ran.”

He regained composure, bringing his gaze back to me as he held back the tears that threatened to spill.

“I wasn’t going to run from you. And I’ll never run from anything again.”

I sighed at that, secretly admiring his determination but also afraid it would put him in danger again.

“You’ve certainly got some stones, Eddie...” I breathed out, barely able to speak coherently, “but sometimes, you gotta run. Whether you like it or not. You hear me...?”

Eddie nodded, though a bit reluctantly. “I hear you. Speaking of running though, where do we go from here? I can’t take you to Saint Denis. That’s where Rodrick found me. He left a note on my doorstep. Underneath your own hat, no less.”

The pianist reached into his saddlebag and pulled out my hat, returning it to me.

I took the accessory in hand, giving him a puzzled look. “Rodrick? Who’s that?”

“Rodrick Kingsley. He works for Atticus. That man is absolutely insane, Arthur. He relishes pain, and I’m sure you must’ve encountered him at least once during your stay at Colm’s camp.”

A bitter taste filled my mouth at the sound of his name. “Feller with the red hair and scar over his eye?”

“That’s him.” He confirmed. “But my question remains: do you have any idea where we could hide for the time being?”

I weighed our options, thinkin’ about any areas that would be secluded enough for us to stay.

I didn’t wanna camp out in the wilderness by ourselves again. After all, we had just seen how many men Atticus had at his disposal, and the last thing I wanted was to be ambushed out there when we was alone like at the Kamassa. The ideal location would be somewhere with a decent amount of people around us.

But...that would narrow it down to only one possibility.

Shit. I guessed we had no other choice.

Peering at the mountains over my shoulder, I squinted my eyes in the sun and pointed towards the southeast, informin’ Eddie on where to go.

“There’s only one place I can think of that’ll be relatively safe for us,” I explained. “But it ain’t gonna be easy gettin’ you in there.”

The pianist quirked a brow. “Why’s that?”

I hesitated before telling him, feelin’ like an absolute moron for giving away our hideout like this. It was a risky move, and the whole gang would probably end up tannin’ my hide for this, but there was nowhere else we could turn to.

I decided to go with it.

“It’s...it’s where the rest of my gang is holed up,” I explained. “It’s where Dutch is. A place...called Shady Belle.”


	17. Save Fellers As Need Saving

From Arthur’s POV

A COUPLE HOURS LATER

SHADY BELLE

Practically leaning my entire body against Eddie due to fatigue, the boy hurriedly rode through the thick woods surrounding Shady Belle as we approached the abandoned mansion, instantly catching the attention of the guards.

Things seemed peaceful enough ‘round here, and it didn’t look like Atticus had reached the camp yet which was a huge relief considerin’ the shit Eddie and I just went through with the O’Driscolls. Though, that only made me wonder whether it was because they didn’t know our location, or because they was simply bidin’ their time. I supposed we would see soon enough.

Slowin’ down to a halt, Eddie transitioned into a steady trot as we got closer to the camp’s entrance, causin’ someone to block our path. It was John.

“Who goes there?” He called out, readying his rifle.

“Relax, Marston!” I replied, my voice a lot more hoarse than normal. “It’s me, Arthur.” I gestured to Eddie. “Don’t worry ‘bout him. He’s a friend. He means no harm.”

John took a better look at me, his eyes widening in concern once he noticed my wounds.

“Jesus...!” He exclaimed. “The hell happened to you out there, Arthur?”

“I’ll explain later...” I slurred out, struggling to keep myself upright. “Right now, I just need to speak with Dutch. Y’know where he is?”

Marston pointed to the mansion. “I think he’s in there with Hosea. He’ll wanna see you. You’ve been gone for quite a while. But...what about your friend?”

I held back a pained groan. “Like I said...he can be trusted. He won’t breathe a word about this place to no one. I wouldn’t have brought him here if I thought otherwise.”

He still appeared somewhat hesitant, but allowed him inside anyway. “Well...if you’re sure. Just keep an eye on him. Folk ain’t gonna be happy you brought a stranger to us.”

I nodded, holding onto Eddie as he took us into the camp. “I know...I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Proceeding through the barricades, the pianist hitched his horse just outside the entrance and helped me down as the gang slowly gathered around us, all of ‘em curious to see what was goin’ on while Eddie guided me to the mansion.

From all different directions, I could hear the other members murmurin’ to each other in both relief and alarm as they speculated about the situation, skeptical to trust the new face I had brought along with me.

“...Is that Arthur?” Mary-Beth asked, pokin’ her head above Charles’ shoulder. “Has he come back?”

“Looks like it,” the man replied in a stoic tone. “He’s not alone though.”

Micah let out an annoyed yet somehow amused scoff, casually sharpening his knife. “Pfft. Leave it to Morgan to make a grand entrance like this.” He raised his voice slightly. “Welcome home, Arthur! I’m sure things’ll be just fine now that you’re here.”

I threw a glare at him, doin’ my best to keep up with Eddie’s pace. “Shut your mouth, Micah.”

He grinned. “A gentleman as always, my brother.”

Sadie jumped in, both her and Pearson’s eyes nailed onto me as the pianist was forced to come to a stop with how many people was surrounding us.

“Arthur!” She greeted, her brow furrowed in anxiety. “Goddamn, what happened to you? Was it them Pinkertons?”

I shook my head, growing weaker by the second. “...No.”

A sense of anger ignited her already wild eyes. “Well, whoever it was, they’re gonna have hell to pay.” Sadie turned to Pearson. “Don’t just stand there! Get him somethin’ to eat, for God’s sake. The man looks dead!”

The chef complied, briefly acknowledging me before taking his leave. “Right, of course. Mister Morgan.”

“Pearson.” I said back.

Bill and Javier hopped in the minute Pearson left, bombarding me with even more questions.

“Well, you’ve seen better days, amigo.” The latter remarked.

I let out a frail chuckle. “I’ve also seen worse.”

“Who even did this to you?” Bill asked.

“And more importantly, did they follow you?” Javier added.

Again, I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so. We didn’t see anybody on our trail.”

“Yeah,” Bill commented grumpily, “people like to make sure you don’t see them when they’re followin’ you, Arthur.”

I sighed. “I don’t have time for this, Williamson. I just need to speak with Dutch.”

A voice of pragmatism joined the conversation, breaking up all the commotion. 

“Well, here I am.”

Pushing his way through the crowd with Hosea in tow, Dutch’s presence alone instantly caused the entire gang to fall silent as the two of them walked up to me, immediately recognizing the boy standing by my side. 

Both of them looked distressed upon seeing my injuries -- Hosea especially -- but in Dutch’s face, I could also see a hint of anger and uncertainty. It was pretty damned obvious he didn’t approve of my bringin’ Eddie into the camp, and I didn’t blame him one bit for it.

I mean, here I was, lookin’ like a corpse come back to life with God-knows-what chasing me, and a man who was a stranger to most of the people in the camp. They didn’t know a damned thing about him, or the men who wanted him dead, and yet, I had allowed this boy to enter the heart of our operations. Not only that, but I had also possibly led Atticus and gang here, too. 

Goddamn, I really was a fool. But I was a fool with no other choices.

Taking a step towards me, Dutch examined my burned and cut body, his brown eyes flicking up and down.

“Oh, my boy,” he said, “my dear boy...what happened to you? And why’ve you brought your friend here?”

“He saved me, Dutch,” I answered, my words almost incoherent at this point. “...He saved my life.”

The man glanced at Eddie. “Is that true?”

Eddie nodded, adjusting my arm around his shoulder as I hung like a noose. “Arthur was kidnapped,” he explained. “By the O’Driscolls. They were holding him in their camp. I got him out though.”

Dutch cursed. “Colm’s involved in this? Shit. I shoulda known.”

Hosea gave the boy a sincere expression of gratitude. “Well, you certainly have our thanks, young man. It was brave of you to do that.”

“Indeed,” Dutch agreed, “but I hope you don’t mind, Arthur, I’m still gonna have someone keep an eye on your friend here.” He turned to a random member. “Micah?”

I mentally groaned to myself. Out of all people...

“Sure thing,” Micah said, moseying on up to the boy. “Don’t you worry, Arthur. I’ll take good care of him.”

I glowered at the sleazy man. “Oh, I’m sure you will.”

Dutch promptly took Eddie’s place and allowed me to lean on him, sensing the growing tension between me and Micah.

“In the meantime...” he continued, “let’s you and I head inside, and you explain what all this is about.” He glanced at his friend. “Hosea? Come with us, would you?”

The older man rushed over. “Of course.” 

Helpin’ me inside the mansion, Dutch and Hosea guided me through the front doors while the rest of the gang stayed behind, all of ‘em watching with a newfound curiosity. 

I didn’t much like the idea of leavin’ Eddie alone in a camp full of outlaws -- especially not when Micah was the one guardin’ him -- but I knew the kid could handle himself, and I trusted most of the people here to keep things civil. I only prayed I was right. 

After all, folk here had been stressed recently, and Lord only knew what they went through while I was away. I doubted it would take much more to push ‘em over the edge, and the last person I wanted them to be takin’ out their anger on was Eddie.

Jesus. I really hoped I did the right thing, bringing him here. He was a fish outta water among us criminals, and if somethin’ were to go south, Eddie didn’t exactly have any other places to hide. This was his only viable option at the moment, and Atticus already had his men crawlin’ all over the wilds. If he went back out there, he would get killed.

I supposed our only choice now was making things work...no matter how hard it would be.

Assisting me to the closest couch, Dutch plopped me down on the cushioned piece of furniture as I sighed in relief, finally able to relax a little ever since escapin’ from Colm’s camp. 

After endurin’ the kidnapping, the beating, the shooting, and the longest goddamned ride of my life...honestly, I could’ve fallen asleep standing up. But I had to discuss things with Dutch and Hosea first, and hopefully, if I got lucky, convince him to let Eddie stay.

Dutch examined my broken body, the more vengeful side of him comin’ out as he looked to me for answers.

“Now...you mind tellin’ me just what the hell is going on? How did Colm find you?”

I clutched my wound, tryin’ to keep myself from keeling over. “He weren’t alone. Colm’s teamed up with another gang, Dutch. The same gang that wants Eddie dead. They was plannin’ to use me as bait to lure him in.”

Dutch glanced outside. “Eddie. That’s the boy you brought with you?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Eddie Ryan. You met him briefly at that gala a while ago. The people who sent them assassins after him -- they’re finally here. And they’re doin’ everything within their power to kill him.”

Hosea raised another question. “And who are ‘they,’ exactly?”

I coughed a few times, suddenly feelin’ extremely parched. “...Atticus Rose. That’s the gang’s leader.”

A sense of familiarity twinkled in the old man’s eyes. “Atticus Rose?”

I perked my head up. “You know him?”

“Not personally,” Hosea replied, “but back in the days of the Wild West, stories about him used to circulate, especially around New Austin. They say he’s an extremely skilled gunslinger. Was raised by the very same outlaws that killed his parents. And once he was old enough, Atticus killed the ones responsible in return. Formed the survivors into his own gang. Though...like I mentioned before, these are just stories. They’re probably more mythical than factual. Most-likely nothing more than tales created by outlaws to scare civilization from spreading to the west.”

I leaned against the back of the couch. “Well, I can assure you: he’s very real. And he wants Eddie dead.”

Dutch gave me a stern glare, gesturing to the mansion around us. 

“...And so you bring the boy into our home? Into our sanctuary...?! Even knowing who’s after him?”

A pang of guilt hit me. “I know, Dutch. I know. It’s dangerous, and it’s risky...and I’m sorry for doin’ it...but that boy ain’t got nowhere else to go. They’ve surrounded his house, and they’re searchin’ all over the wilderness for any signs of him. Eddie may be tougher than he looks, but even he can’t go against that many men. He’ll be killed out there.”

Dutch sighed in frustration, unconvinced. “Well, like I said before, Arthur, we can’t afford taking a risk like this! We don’t have the time or the resources!”

“Eddie could be of use to us, Dutch,” I assured. “He’s a good shot, and he’s lived in Saint Denis for years now. He knows that city better than any of us combined. We’ll need that knowledge if we’re still plannin’ to hit that bank. And most importantly...Eddie’s loyal. He’s got no reason to turn his back on us, and he trusts me. We’re the only option he has left. He won’t give us away.”

Dutch’s mind still wasn’t swayed.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but we got our own enemies. Our own battles. Our own problems! And that boy ain’t one of them!”

Hosea joined in, voicing his own opinion.

“He is now.”

Dutch suddenly cocked his head towards him, clearly upset about the situation.

“Hosea, we can’t--”

“--You would’ve done the same for Annabelle!” The older man fired back, almost looking disappointed in his brother. “And I would’ve done the same for Bessie. Arthur’s right. This is a dangerous move, and it is risky...but that don’t matter. People like Eddie are the reason we started this gang, Dutch. You’ve said it yourself: we shoot fellers as need shooting, save fellers as need saving, and feed ‘em as need feeding. We aren’t perfect, but we can protect the people we love. ...I say the boy stays.”

Making his position clear, Hosea went quiet after that and took a moment to calm himself, causin’ Dutch to glance back and forth between the two of us as he made a decision, obviously torn by the dilemma. 

He didn’t look as eager to take Eddie in as he did when we sheltered Mac, or Jenny, or even Sadie, but I could tell some part o’ him still cared, and he knew how much that kid meant to me. 

At the same time though, none of us could ignore the threat of the Pinkertons closin’ in on us more and more with every passing day. Agent Milton had already found us twice, and there was no tellin’ how many more of them was watching our every move.

Having to worry about them as well as Atticus and his gang...it was gonna stretch us thin. It was gonna make the tensions in camp escalate even higher, and there was also the fact that I didn’t know how the rest of the gang would accept Eddie. If they’d accept him at all. 

It was a choice that was gonna end up dividing us one way or another, but all I wanted was to keep the boy safe. That was it.

Rubbing his chin in thought, Dutch turned back to me and took a breath, his eyes narrowed in skepticism as he pondered the decision.

“...You really care about this boy?” He asked. I gave him a sincere look.

“I do.”

“And you think he’s worth it?”

Again, my answer was the same. 

“...I do.”

Dutch took the response to heart, appearing to have finally changed his mind as he peered through the mansion’s windows, examining Eddie for a second before announcing his conclusion.

It was pretty evident he didn’t think much of the boy, and he had a hard time seein’ the same things Hosea and I saw in him, but deep down, I could tell he was still hurting from losin’ Annabelle. He understood more than anyone how hard it was to lose a loved one, and despite how much we may have argued recently, Dutch didn’t want the same thing to happen a third time. 

He let out a reluctant sigh, seemingly willing to give Eddie a chance at least. 

“...Very well,” he agreed. “If both of you think this man has a place here...then I suppose we can keep him around for a while. Least until he sorts things out.”

I looked up at him with a hopeful gaze. “So you’re lettin’ him stay?”

Dutch nodded, resting his hands on his hips. “Yes. Mister Ryan...is now part of the gang.”


	18. Calm Before The Storm

From Arthur’s POV

SHADY BELLE

ONE WEEK LATER

Waking up to a bright beam of sunlight hittin’ me directly in the face, I squinted in response and shielded my eyes with a lazy hand, only to feel my ears perk in interest when I suddenly picked up on the distant chime of piano music.

It sounded like it was comin’ from downstairs, and I could also hear a few other voices speaking over it -- Hosea and Abigail, to be precise -- but it didn’t seem like whoever was playin’ it was doing it out of leisure. It seemed more like...they was practicing. As if preparing for some kinda performance.

Heh. If I was bein’ honest, I completely forgot there was a piano downstairs in the first place. No one ever used it, and it was covered in dust and old paint just like everything else, but I could see it didn’t take Eddie long to find it.

It was nice to hear him playin’ again though. It felt like ages since he last hit a single note, and I was glad that the boy finally had some time to just take a breath and do what he loved, for once. He certainly deserved it.

Sluggishly rising from bed, I let out a fatigued yawn and rolled my shoulders, afterwards touchin’ up my appearance a bit before grabbing my hat and heading out the door.

It had been a while since I was able to walk freely on my own. Last time I was up and about, I was clingin’ onto Dutch like a man whose foot got stuck in a stirrup, and I felt like death. No -- worse than death.

Thanks to Eddie though, I was finally back home and in a good enough shape to return to work. Every inch of me still ached to some extent, but I imagined Dutch was done waiting, and had plans to hit that bank at any minute now. I’d have to be ready.

Pushing the door open, I made my way into the corridor and wandered to the stairs, listenin’ in on the conversation that was going on below as Eddie finished the song.

Abigail let out an impressed sigh, her soft voice echoing throughout the otherwise quiet mansion.

“That...was real nice, Eddie. I had no idea Arthur brought such a musician to us.”

Eddie smiled at her, thinking back to a certain memory. “Did you know I convinced Arthur to play the piano once?”

Abigail chortled. “You’re pullin’ my leg.”

“No, seriously. I managed to persuade him to play an entire song with me. He’s...actually not too bad at it.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t appear that shocked. “Is that so? Hmm...some part o’ me always knew Arthur weren’t as gruff as he came across. I mean, you leave that man with a pen and paper for long enough, and he might just create a masterpiece. Still though, I wish I was half as good as you when it came to the piano.”

Eddie quirked a brow. “You play the piano?”

“Not well,” she replied with a chuckle. “But I dabble in it sometimes. Though, it’s hard to practice regularly when I’m constantly lookin’ after that boy.”

The musician nodded in understanding. “Jack is quite the wanderer, indeed. He always seems to be exploring.”

Abigail gave him a nudge. “I was talkin’ about John.”

The two of them laughed nonchalantly at that, their voices gradually falling silent once Abigail decided it was time for her to leave.

She stood up from the piano, beaming at Eddie in a grateful manner.

“Well, thank you for playin’ that song, Mister Ryan. It was a nice change o’ pace, compared to what normally goes on around here, but...I should probably get back to work. Miss Grimshaw don’t like it when I take breaks. Or rest at all, for that matter.”

The boy waved her goodbye. “Then I won’t keep you any longer. Have a good day, Abigail. Perhaps I can teach you more songs some other time.”

The woman strolled out of the mansion. “I’d like that. Well, goodbye, Eddie. And take care of yourself, you hear?”

The pianist gave her an affable expression. “I’ll do my best.”

Tracing his fingers along the piano as Abigail took her leave, Eddie glanced outta the corner of his eye and watched Hosea as he avidly worked on something, catchin’ the boy’s attention.

Eddie peered at him in curiosity. “What are you making there, Hosea?”

The old man looked up from his project, grinning proudly as he sat up straight in his chair.

“Some bait,” he answered. “I’m planning to go hunting sometime soon. The camp should be good on food, but...it never hurts to be sure. And besides, I have no idea when I’ll get the chance to hunt again. There are so many fellas out there looking for us right now -- it’d honestly be dangerous to set foot outside camp. But we do what we have to do.”

Hosea placed the bait down for a moment, giving Eddie an inquisitive glance as I reached the bottom the stairs and quietly listened to his story.

“...Did Arthur ever tell you about that one time he and I went huntin’ for a bear?” Hosea asked.

Eddie shook his head, his expression lighting up with a newfound interest. “No. Did you catch it?”

“Yes, but it weren’t easy. We spent a few days in the wilderness all by ourselves, you see. Miles away from any sign of civilization. We were alone in the mountains...and we had nothing to go off other than my own memory.”

The old man rested his elbows on his knees, continuing the tale.

“It took us quite a while to hunt that animal down. Tracks were scarce, and the area we was camping in was huge. We would find the occasional fish carcass lying around, or disturbance in the grass...but nothing solid enough to lead us to our target.”

A victorious glint shimmered in Hosea’s eyes. “Eventually though, while Arthur and I were out scouting one day...we spotted a paw print. ...Two. Three! It was a trail. We followed it all the way up the mountain until we reached a gathering of boulders hidden deep inside a forest. It definitely looked like the sort of place a beast would turn into its home, and so that was where we placed the bait. Well, Arthur placed it. And once he was done, the two of us waited behind the boulders, sitting in complete silence.”

“We didn’t dare move a single muscle, not when there was a bear roaming around. Hell, we barely even breathed. After all, we had no idea if we truly had the upper hand in this situation. A beast such as the one we was hunting could’ve easily turned the tables if we weren’t careful, and on top of that, we were fighting it up close.”

Hosea smirked out of excitement as he reached the ending, amused to see that Eddie was listenin’ so intently to him.

“Finally, however, after what felt like an eternity...I heard a menacing growl not too far away from me. It sounded more like a monster than an animal, and I won’t lie: it got my heart racing. But I knew there was no time for fear. We had located our target at last, and it was our opportunity to strike. So, I reached for my rifle and prepared to confront it, when suddenly...a big, hairy beast came leaping out of the shadows from behind me and let out a ferocious roar, its raw power shaking the ground underneath as the birds fled from the trees surrounding us.”

Hosea brought his gaze to me, grinning mischievously.

“...Arthur scared the bear off pretty quick. Ha!”

I let out a blunt chuckle, shakin’ my head in an amused manner. “Oh, very funny.”

The older man laughed at my annoyance and took the bait in hand, switching to a more sincere tone as he leaned back in his chair.

“No...the truth is, Arthur saved my life that day. Like the old fool I am, I nearly let that bear get the best of me. But Arthur stepped in just in time. Just as I’m sure he’s done for you.”

Eddie nodded, turning towards me with a fond look. “He has.”

Hosea stood up from his chair. “See, Arthur? You do have a heart, after all.”

I snickered at that. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

The man smirked in return and began makin’ his way out the mansion, winking at Eddie in a friendly manner.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hosea teased as he walked through the door. “He may act like a big, angry moron -- and play the role exceptionally well sometimes, heh -- but there’s a soul lying underneath all that...whether he wants to admit it or not. ...Welp, anyway, I’ll leave you boys alone. In the meantime, I should go speak with Dutch. I know he’s been itchin’ to hit that bank. Stay safe.”

I gave him a casual wave. “You too, Hosea.”

Disappearing behind the mansion’s front doors, Hosea took his leave while Eddie and I stayed behind, the boy turning towards me with a relieved look on his face when he noticed I was no longer bed-ridden.

“Arthur!” Eddie greeted happily as I approached him. “You’re looking much better.”

I casually leaned against the side of the piano. “Thanks to you. How’s the gang been treatin’ you?”

The pianist’s response was surprisingly optimistic. “Most of them have been pretty welcoming. Hosea and Mary-Beth, especially. Mary-Beth can’t seem to get over the fact that you’ve found a new lover. She says it’s ‘adorable.’ Like a romance in one of those books she’s reading.”

I sighed, scratching my beard. “That does sound like somethin’ she would say.”

Eddie flicked his eyes to the side. “...And I may or may not’ve shown her the portrait you made of me.”

A groan escaped me. “...Dammit, Eddie.”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist. It’s a wonderful drawing.”

“I’m just surprised you kept it this long.”

Eddie looked at me affectionately. “Of course I kept it. It’s...it’s special to me. I take it with me everywhere I go. Just brings back a lot of good memories, you know?”

I awkwardly rubbed the back of my neck, tryin’ to hide the faint blush creeping onto my face. “Well, I’m glad you like it so much.”

A certain thought suddenly crossed my mind, leadin’ me to take a seat next to the boy as I propped myself on the edge of the piano’s thin bench.

“Listen,” I said, shifting inelegantly, “I, ah...I never thanked you properly for gettin’ me outta that camp.”

Eddie didn’t appear bothered. “I understand. You were just concerned.”

I rested my hand on the piano, mindlessly fiddling with its keys. “Yeah, but still. I’d be dead by now if you hadn’t come along and saved my ass -- all by yourself, no less. It was a brave and foolish thing, waltzin’ into their camp the way you did...but I’m grateful nonetheless. So...thank you.”

Scooting closer to the musician, I gently cupped his face and planted a brief kiss on his lips, earning a radiant smile from him as he nestled against my hand.

Eddie gazed me in a tender way, placing his own hand on top of mine.

“I’d do anything for you, Arthur. You know that.”

I nodded, furrowing my brow in uneasiness. “I do. And that’s what worries me. But I also know there ain’t no stoppin’ you once you’ve got your mind set on something. Just...don’t go throwin’ your life away like that again, okay? I don’t wanna die, but if it comes down to it, I’d rather you save yourself. Even if it means you can’t save me.”

The boy frowned at that. “Don’t talk that way, Arthur. I’m not going to abandon you.”

I let out a despondent sigh. “Yeah, well...you may not have a choice.”

Interrupting us before we could talk further, the front door suddenly swung open as Miss Grimshaw came stormin’ through, causing me and Eddie to jolt our heads in her direction to see what was goin’ on.

Susan hurriedly approached me, her temperament fueled with a sense of haste as always.

“Mister Morgan,” she called out in a cranky tone, “Dutch is lookin’ for you. Says he needs to speak with you about the bank job.”

I mentally chuckled to myself. I was wonderin’ how long it’d take for Dutch to hit the bank.

“Alright,” I said, rising from the bench and revealing Eddie in the process. “Guess I better go see him, then. Thank you, Susan.”

Upon noticing his presence, Miss Grimshaw brought her attention to the pianist and abruptly changed her mood, takin’ on a more compassionate and motherly nature.

“Oh!” She blurted out. “Well, hello there, young man. You must be that new member Dutch mentioned.”

I gestured to the boy. “This is Eddie. Eddie Ryan.” I switched over to the pianist. “Eddie, Miss Grimshaw.”

The man stood up from his seat, greeting her in a courteous manner as he reached out a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Susan politely shook his hand, actually managin’ to crack a smile for once.

“The pleasure is mine,” she replied. “It’s always a pleasure to meet someone with manners.” Grimshaw emphasized the last word, sending a glare my way.

I shrugged innocently. “I’ve got manners.”

The woman gripped my arm, forcefully guiding me out the mansion.

“For a no-good outlaw, perhaps. Now go on and get! Dutch is waitin’ for you in the gazebo outside!”

I chuckled, shielding myself from Susan’s frantic swats as she followed me out the door.

“Alright!” I said with a laugh. “I’m on my way.”

Miss Grimshaw regained her composure once I was outta the building and straightened her blouse, turning to Eddie with a sweet expression on her usually grumpy face.

“Mister Ryan, have you met Karen and Tilly yet?”

“I’m afraid not,” he answered. “I’ve met Mary-Beth, though.”

Susan beckoned him. “Well, allow me to introduce you to ‘em. Them girls drive me insane, and they haven’t got a lick of manners like yourself, but I imagine they’ll be quite fond of you.”

Eddie followed the woman, the two of us divertin’ our paths once I spotted the gazebo.

“I hope you’re right. Lord knows I’ve made more than enough enemies.”

Miss Grimshaw nodded at that with a sigh.

“Haven’t we all.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A LITTLE LATER

Approaching the gazebo just in front of the mansion, I searched for Dutch as I strolled through Lemoyne’s humid, soupy weather, only to find a snake leanin’ against the fence.

At the moment, Micah was currently under the gazebo’s roof as he sharpened his precious knife, givin’ me an unsettling smirk while I walked up the steps.

He put his knife down for a second.

“There he is...” Micah announced, “Dutch’s favorite son. How are you, Arthur?”

I scowled at him impatiently. “Well, I was fine. What you want, Micah?”

He held his hands up defensively. “Just catchin’ up with you, my brother. No need to get angry. See, I got the chance to speak with Eddie while you was...licking your wounds this past week.”

I paused, not interested in the slightest. “...And?”

Micah smiled insincerely, placing a “friendly” hand on my shoulder. “Well, I’m happy for you, Arthur. Outta all the things to find in Saint Denis, I certainly didn’t expect you to find a lover. It’s...surprising, is all. I just never really thought of you as a romantic. ‘Specially when it came to...y’know...boys.”

I aggressively brushed his hand away. “Yeah, well you don’t do much thinkin’ anyway.”

The man gave me a condescending pout. “Why you gettin’ all sour? I ain’t judging you. In fact...I get it. We all need some sort of distraction. I mean, things is tense recently.”

“Which is why we’d all appreciate it if you left.”

Micah snickered mischievously at that, casually wavin’ his knife in my face as he leaned towards me. “Oh, Arthur...I hope you never change.”

A third, guttural voice jumped in, breaking us up before we could argue more.

“Enough! Both of you.”

Joining us in the gazebo, Dutch ascended the short stairs with a rolled up map in his hand as he stepped in between us, starin’ us down like a disappointed father.

He let out a defeated breath. “Can’t you two put aside your differences for just one minute? We have got a bank to rob, and you’re actin’ like a pair of little boys!”

As always, Micah played the role of the ass-kisser.

“I’m sorry, Dutch...” he apologized. “I don’t know what came over me. I just get...I just get so irritated sometimes, but I know it ain’t gonna do us no good. It...it won’t happen again, boss.”

The other man saw through the apology, but accepted it nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

I rested an elbow on the fence, changing the subject. “So, we still hittin’ the bank?”

Dutch spread the map out. “Yes, but not today. Tomorrow. Now, lemme explain the plan. If you’re willin’ to behave, that is.”

He pointed to the Lemoyne National Bank.

“Alright, as you both know, this city is crawlin’ with lawmen. That means if we rob this bank, every policeman in a five-mile radius is gonna be on top of us within seconds. And that’s why we need a distraction.”

I was with the plan so far. “What kinda distraction?”

Dutch brought our focus to a different part of the map, pointing at the trolley station.

“We’ll send some men to start another ‘robbery’ at the trolley station,” he explained. “That should keep the law away from the bank and give us... eight minutes or so to get in, get the money, and get out.”

I blinked in confusion. “Wait -- you wanna rob two places at once?”

Dutch seemed confident. “Why not? The robbery at the station will be more of a distraction than an actual heist, but if we can pull this off, we’ll get double the reward, and twice the amount of money.”

I still wasn’t sure. “And if the plan goes wrong, we’ll get twice the amount of trouble!”

He held up a reassuring hand. “Now, I know this is a risky move...but we need money, Arthur. And we need to get it soon. This city has thousands of dollars just sittin’ in it. We’d be fools to leave it behind!”

I shook my head, starin’ aimlessly at the swamps in the distance. “I dunno, Dutch. Robbin’ a national bank -- that ain’t no easy task. But breakin’ up the gang and startin’ another robbery on the other side of the city? That’s gonna make our chances of success even lower. The risk outweighs the reward here.”

Micah disagreed because of course he did. “Trust Dutch, Arthur. He knows what he’s doing.”

Dutch added onto that. “And besides, like I said, all we’re doin’ is making a bit of noise. If we can confuse the law and have them split up, that’ll make our escape all the easier!”

“And what if they catch someone, Dutch?” I asked. “We won’t even know until we regroup at camp.”

“They won’t,” he reiterated. “Trust me on this, Arthur. This plan will work. We just need to keep our wits about us, and we need to move fast. Just do what I say, and all will be fine. Oh, and another thing -- I want Mister Ryan to come along with us. He knows his way around Saint Denis, and we’re gonna need that knowledge if we’re hopin’ to evade the law.”

I hesitated. “You wanna bring Eddie to the robbery?”

Dutch sensed my caution. “The boy’ll be alright, Arthur. I can promise you that. Just have some faith.”

I fell silent at that, unsure of what else I could say.

It was pretty evident that Dutch was beyond the point of changin’ his mind, and no matter how much I mighta disliked this plan, I knew he was right about the money.

We could take as many jobs as we liked, and run as many errands as we wanted...but the truth o’ the matter was: the gang was runnin’ low on money. We were stuck in the middle of some godforsaken swamp with Pinkertons on our ass, and the only opportunities to grab some cash all lay in that civilized hellhole called Saint Denis.

We would have to rob something, and fast, if we wanted to get outta here. I just didn’t know if stealing from a national bank and baiting the law with our own people was the answer.

There was also the fact that Dutch wanted Eddie to come with us.

I knew the boy could handle himself, and I had no doubts he’d be able to help us...but just the idea of bringin’ him along to a goddamned bank robbery made me uneasy. I mean, I had already forced him into a den full of outlaws and degenerates. The last thing I wanted was for him to become one himself.

But then again, I didn’t really have much of a choice, did I? After all, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he was gonna have to pull his weight if he wanted to stay.

I supposed I’d have to do what Dutch said...and just have some faith.

“...Alright,” I finally agreed, earning a satisfied expression from the older man. “I’m in.”

Dutch nodded in approval. “We will survive, Arthur. And before that sun finishes its cycle, we are gonna be a whole, lot, richer. Now, why don’t you go and inform Eddie of the plan? I want the whole gang to be prepared for this. We ain’t robbin’ theaters and galas no more, after all. Tomorrow...we’re hitting the heart of Saint Denis.”


	19. Hurricane

From Arthur's POV

THE NEXT MORNING

SHADY BELLE, INSIDE THE MANSION

Slidin’ the rag up and down my rifle, I made sure all my weapons were ready to go while Eddie gathered his own gear, both of us preparing for the robbery.

Dutch still seemed confident in the plan that he and Micah created, and no one else had protested the scheme yet, but Hosea and I...well...we wasn’t so sure.

I mean, robbin’ a national bank was risky enough, considering how heavy the security was -- but starting another robbery on the other side of town just to distract the law for a few minutes...it felt like suicide. I knew Dutch thought he was buyin’ us some time -- and that we’d be in and out within minutes -- but to me, this plan just seemed like it was gonna end up painting an even bigger target on our backs. And that was the last thing we needed right now.

Ah, well...it was clear to me that there weren’t no use in tryin’ to convince Dutch. For whatever foolish reason, he appeared to be taking Micah’s advice to heart recently, and I knew better than to go in circles with the old man.

I was just worried about what we’d do if things didn’t go accordin’ to plan today. Not only would our gang be split up, we would’ve also attracted the law to both sides of the city, makin’ it much easier for them to corner us.

I just hoped I’d be able to keep Eddie safe. That boy was about to throw himself into one of the most dangerous heists we’d pulled off since Blackwater, and I was gonna do everything I possibly could to ensure he’d get back out.

The money may’ve been Dutch’s main concern today, but the pianist was mine.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” I asked Eddie, earning a hesitant sigh from the boy.

“...Well, I’m not too fond of the idea of robbing people,” he admitted, “but if Dutch is willing to let me stay in his camp, then the least I can do is help the gang earn some money.”

I slipped my revolvers into my holsters, shrugging in response. “If you’re sure. It’s just...there’s a whole lot that could go wrong with this plan, and I wanna make sure you ain’t caught in the worst of it if it does.”

Eddie walked up to me and began straightening my suit, adjustin’ my tie while he spoke.

“I’ll be okay,” he reassured. “I have you by my side, don’t I?”

I smiled at him. “Always.”

The boy let out a soft chuckle, his eyes twinkling in a reminiscent manner as he tidied me up.

“You know, Arthur...when we first met, I never imagined I’d be robbing a bank with you one day. Hell, I didn’t imagine any of this. But...despite the struggles we may face, and the many things we’ve fought through to get here, I just want to let you know -- I’m glad to have you with me.”

I beamed at the compliment and retrieved my bandana, tyin’ the accessory around my neck.

“The feeling’s mutual. You happy you joined the gang though? I know these people ain’t exactly your typical civilians, but they’re alright. ...Most of ‘em.”

The pianist nodded. “I am. Miss Grimshaw introduced me to Tilly and Karen yesterday. I had quite a lengthy talk with them, actually. And Mary-Beth as well. She told me she wants to be an author someday. I never expected there to be so many artists in the gang...but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Considering who the leader is.”

I quirked a brow. “You see Dutch as an artist?”

“Perhaps not an artist himself, but he certainly appreciates it. He’s always reading that Evelyn Miller, and the way he speaks to the gang is quite poetic most of the time. Makes me think Dutch is a romantic. Much like yourself.”

“...Heh, I guess he is,” I replied, decidin’ to change the subject. “So...you’ve met the women in camp. You met any of the men yet?”

Eddie thought for a moment. “Well, Micah’s approached me a few times.”

I chortled at that. “I said men, not snakes.”

The musician returned the laugh. “I’ve spoken with Micah, Hosea, John, Dutch...and Bill is surprisingly interested in my work as a pianist.”

I paused. “Really? Huh. Never pegged him for the...musical type. But I guess we all got our secrets. It’s good to hear the gang’s welcoming you though. I honestly weren’t expectin’ Dutch to let you in in the first place. He’s been...skeptical of newcomers recently.”

“I don’t blame him,” Eddie said. “Sounds like you guys have had it rough for a while now. Hopefully, today’s robbery turns that around.”

I gave him an assuring nod. “That’s the plan.”

Interrupting our conversation before we could talk further, Dutch suddenly strolled into the mansion with an assertive kick of the door as the rest of the gang followed him inside, all of them geared up and ready to go.

Everyone was dressed in opulent clothing and had either a bandana or a mask hangin’ around their neck to hide their identity, and the more the image of Micah wearin’ a tight suit ingrained itself into my brain, the more I felt the urge to back outta this heist.

An ecstatic grin radiated on Dutch’s face.

“Gentlemen!” he proudly announced, glancing around the room. “It’s time. The Lemoyne National Bank has waited for long enough, but we are finally ready to hit it. Is everyone clear on the plan?”

There was a confirming silence.

“Good. Then let me explain who’s doin’ what.”

Dutch pointed out a few of the gang members.

“Hosea, Javier, John, and Charles -- the four of you will be in charge of distractin’ the law. Go to the trolley station, and make some noise. Start a robbery. Do whatever it takes to attract the law there, and try to keep them there for as long as possible. We shouldn’t need too long, but you never know what could happen.”

He turned to everyone else, givin’ each of us specific tasks.

“The rest o’ you,” Dutch addressed, “are with me. We’ll wait until they have the law’s attention, and then we are hittin’ that bank hard. Sadie and Lenny, I want you two to keep watch. Let us know the minute you see any lawmen, and we’ll focus on gettin’ the money.”

“Bill and Micah” he continued, “you just make sure everyone in that bank behaves themselves and stays in place. I don’t want no trouble from the security or the civilians -- we got enough to worry about as is.”

Dutch brought his attention to me.

“Arthur, your job is to get that vault open. But avoid using dynamite. We don’t wanna raise the alarm before we’ve even got the money. And as for you, Eddie, you can help Mister Morgan crack the safes. Make the process a little faster. In case things go wrong today though, we need an escape route outta the city. Now, you know Saint Denis better than any of us...so what d’you think is the best way out?”

Before Eddie could reply, Micah jumped in and offered his own idea, cuttin’ the boy off.

“We could take the back alleys.” He proposed.

The pianist rejected the recommendation.

“No,” he responded. “The alleyways are too narrow for all of us. If we go in there, the law will cage us in within seconds.”

Dutch considered the advice. “Then what do you suggest?”

Eddie thought about it for a moment. “...Ironically, the best way out of the city would probably be through the more populated streets. If we can put enough civilians between us and the law, we’ll slow them down drastically. Not to mention there are also trams and stagecoaches going around all the time, adding even more obstacles for them to maneuver around.”

The other man slowly nodded in approval. “Makes sense.”

“We have to move fast though,” Eddie warned. “If we aren’t careful, we could be trapped in the crowd, too.”

“Sounds good,” Dutch agreed. “Well, alright then. I’d say we’re good to go.” He addressed the rest of the gang. “Everyone! ...Are we ready?”

I picked up my shotgun, slingin’ it over my shoulder.

“Ready as we’ll ever be, Dutch.”

The man smiled excitedly, his expression glowing with a passion for larceny as that ever so familiar spark returned to his dark eyes.

“...Then let’s empty this goddamn bank.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

LEMOYNE NATIONAL BANK

Blowing their whistles while they bolted across the packed city, a group of lawmen came rushing past us as we hid in a nearby alleyway, waitin’ for our opportunity to strike.

At the moment, it didn’t seem like anyone had caught onto our plan, and with most of the law hurrying over to deal with our distraction, we had roughly about ten minutes to get in, get everythin’ we could, and get the hell out. Jesus, I really hoped this plan worked.

Just by standin’ next to the bank, I could already hear a large amount of muffled voices comin’ from the inside, and the fact that we was doing this in broad daylight didn’t exactly help to ease my nerves.

We were out in the open, and the law would be back on our asses at any minute.

We had to move. Now.

“Alright, cowboys,” Dutch whispered lowly through his bandana, “this is it. You all know what to do. Be quick, and be thorough. Let’s get this done!”

Marching out of our hidin’ spot, Dutch stormed his way to the bank’s entrance as the rest of us followed him, constantly checking over our shoulders to make sure no one was tailing us.

There were civilians strollin’ around all over the place, and a few of their gazes had fallen onto us already, but so far, no one seemed to have figured out just exactly what we were doing.

Now was our chance to hit.

Swinging the bank’s doors open with a forceful push, Dutch whipped out his revolvers and sauntered inside, immediately catching everyone’s attention as their heads jolted in our direction.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he called out, raising his guns, “this is a robbery!”

Bill instantly bashed the stock of his rifle into a civilian’s head while Micah held the rest at gunpoint, causing all of them to let out a series of panicked shrieks and screams as they stumbled to the floor.

“Stay down!” Micah demanded, bringing everyone to their knees. “Unless you wanna get shot!”

Dutch turned to me, gesturing to the vault’s door. “Mister M, Mister R! Get that vault open!”

I aimed my own gun at the bank manager and grabbed him by the collar, aggressively hurling the man towards the vault as he yelped out of fear.

“You think we’re foolin’ around?” I shouted at him. “Open the goddamn vault!”

“O-Okay! Okay!” He whimpered, throwing his hands in the air. “Just, please! Don’t hurt--!”

I slammed the grip of my revolver into his head. “I ain’t interested! Just get it open! Now!”

Turning the vault’s lock with a trembling hand, the manager hurriedly followed my instructions and put the combo in, both me and Eddie waitin’ by as we frantically glanced around the bank.

Even with a bandana covering half his face, I could still tell Eddie wasn’t happy with me, and he clearly disapproved of this entire heist. I knew he understood why we had to do this, and he showed no signs of backin’ out so far, but unlike the rest of the gang, the pianist still had his morals.

I was just worried about how this would affect his image of me. He always told me I was a better man than I implied, but...after today’s events, I wasn’t so sure he’d think the same way. Lord. What a goddamned mess this was.

Finally opening the vault’s door with a metallic creak, the manager quickly backed away while I got to work and rushed inside, wastin’ no time in cracking the safes.

“I’m openin’ the safes!” I told Eddie. “Would you kindly get the combos outta our friend here?”

The boy whipped the side of his gun into the manager’s head, leavin’ a rather nasty gash. “What’s the combination?!”

A pained shout escaped the manager and he cowered away from Eddie’s firearm, shakily spittin’ out the numbers one by one.

“S-Seventy-two!” he blubbered out, “Fifty-four! T-Twenty-eight!”

The safe practically fell open once I hit the last number, revealing a beautiful stack of cash on the inside. I instantly snatched the money and shoved it into my pouch, movin’ onto the next.

“Got it! Next one!”

While I worked on the rest of the safes, Dutch brought his attention to Lenny and peered outside the bank’s windows, his body gettin’ a little restless due to our limited time.

“Mister S!” He called out. “How’s it looking?”

“So far, so good!” Lenny replied. “But we gotta get this moving!”

Dutch turned to me. “You hear that, Mister M?”

“I’m on it!” I exclaimed back. “Just got a couple safes left! Mister R?”

Eddie cocked his gun at the manager. “Next combo!” He demanded.

The manager let out a quivering breath, horrified for his life. “Thirty! N-Ninety-five! Seventeen!”

Nearly ripping the safe’s door off its hinges, I fumbled through the valuables sittin’ inside and grabbed as much as I could carry, bringing my attention to the third one.

“Next!” 

The manager didn’t even give Eddie a chance to hit him again. “Forty-one! E-Eighty-five! Sixty-seven!”

There was even more money in this one than the last -- and like the petty thief I was -- I shoveled the cash into my bag without a second thought, hopping to the adjacent safe...but there was an interruption.

“Gentlemen!” Sadie alerted. “We have a problem! There are lawmen comin’ our way!”

Dutch cursed. “Already? Shit! Mister M, how much you got?”

I glanced inside my pouch. “There must be thousands of dollars in here!”

Despite his reluctance to leave, Dutch took Sadie’s advice and cut the robbery short, urging all of us to evacuate.

“Then that’ll have to do. Everyone! We got what we need! Grab what you can, and let’s get the hell outta here! Mister R, we’ll follow your lead!”

Jogging to the bank’s front doors, Eddie peeked outside and checked our surroundings, lowering his voice slightly.

“Okay, looks like we’ve got a few lawmen surrounding the bank,” he informed. “But we should be able to take them down and stick to the original plan. What do you think?”

Dutch got a good look for himself, patting Eddie on the shoulder.

“I think we’ll be just fine.” He beckoned the rest of us. “Gentlemen! Let’s ride!”

Hurrying out of the vault, I followed Eddie and Dutch through the bank’s exit as the gang hastily took its leave, all of us immediately gunning down the lawmen as soon as we stepped through the front door.

A choir of screams instantly erupted from the civilians surrounding us, all of them scrambling around the streets in panic as we made our way to our horses.

“There they are!” One of the lawmen shouted. “Don’t let ‘em escape!”

Practically leaping onto my horse’s saddle, I mounted up and fired a number of shots at the lawmen chasin’ us before breaking into a sprint, galloping side-by-side with Eddie as we led the gang outta Saint Denis.

“This way!” He instructed, takin’ a sharp turn.

By now, there was folks boltin’ left and right all over the place as we slithered through the thick crowds, causing people to throw themselves out of the way before we could trample over them.

The sounds of gunfire, whistles blaring, civilians hollering, and horses neighing all filled the air along with my own heartbeat as it hammered in my ears, fueling me with an adrenaline like no other.

It didn’t look like the law was gonna let us go quite as easily as we had hoped, but fortunately, they seemed to be fallin’ behind the mayhem just like Eddie said they would, giving us just a few more minutes to escape.

I whipped my reins, urging my horse to pick up the pace.

“Come on!” Eddie encouraged. “We’re almost out!”

Ridin’ through the packed streets, the gang wildly charged its way across the city like the goddamned cavalry as it shot down any lawmen that got too close, leavin’ a trail of smoke and corpses in its wake.

There were stagecoaches and trams rolling all throughout Saint Denis, and we was forced to swerve our way around them as some of the lawmen got stuck behind the convenient obstacles, leading them to lose sight of the gang. Our plan was working.

“Just a little further!” Eddie called out, gesturing to the city’s exit that was comin’ up in the distance. I fired a series of bullets behind me, puttin’ down the lawmen that were tailing us.

“Nearly there, gentlemen!” Dutch announced. “Don’t get tired on me just yet!”

Puttin’ all my energy into the last bit of this escape, I kicked my spurs into the side of my mount, causing her to haul ass towards the bridge that led outta Saint Denis as the lawmen started closing in on us.

At this point, it looked like they had figured out the “robbery” at the trolley station was nothin’ more than a distraction, and the longer we remained in this dreadful city, the more of ‘em there seemed to be.

But we could still make it. We could still take the money.

And I’d be damned if we didn’t.

Racing across the bridge, the gang rode like there was no tomorrow as we approached the other side, only to hear a familiar voice calling out to us from the woods just before we could leave.

It was John.

“Get clear of the bridge y’all!” He shouted. “I’m about to blow it to hell!”

Making ourselves scarce, we all made sure to put a decent amount of distance between us and the bridge just as the law started gaining on us, queuing John to get ready.

With a simple pull of a trigger, Marston suddenly split the bridge in half as he shot the generous amount of dynamite he had placed on the side, sending lawmen flyin’ all over the place due to the thunderous impact.

Dutch let out a hearty laugh at the sight. “Oh, John! You are a genius!”

John mounted his own horse and joined our group, shaking his head. “Actually, it was Hosea’s idea. He figured you’d be comin’ this way. Thought we could help smoothen the ride.”

“And where is he?” 

“Back at camp,” Marston replied. “Hosea and the others made it back early.”

Dutch grinned. “Then let’s not keep them waitin’ any longer.” He glanced over his shoulder, lookin’ back at the rest of us.

“Gentlemen! We made it!” A victorious guffaw escaped him.

“We goddamn made it!”

~~~~~~~~~~

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

SHADY BELLE

Returning to camp like a group of esteemed heroes, Dutch, Eddie, and I hopped off our horses while the rest of the gang settled in, all of us tired but also filled with exhilaration thanks to the pile of cash now sittin’ in our pockets.

The plan admittedly went much better than I first expected, and despite the many fears I had goin’ into this heist, I couldn’t lie: my faith was well-placed this time.

It turned out Dutch actually knew what he was talkin’ about after all, and regardless of any disagreements the gang might’ve had with each other in the past, every single one of us owed Dutch our thanks. We was a whole lot richer now because of that man, and with the newfound wealth we just stole, we had a lotta opportunities waitin’ for us to seize them.

Heh. I guessed there was hope for us yet.

Yanking my bandana off my face, I fed my horse a quick treat and sauntered towards the mansion, only to find an elated Hosea walkin’ up to me.

The old man smiled proudly in my direction and patted me on the shoulder, glancing at the sacks of money now resting in our camp.

“Well done, Arthur,” Hosea praised with a friendly chuckle. “Well done. Dutch said you guys weren’t able to take everything in the bank, but this should still be more than enough.”

I returned the smile, beaming happily at him. “You think we’ll finally be able to leave?”

“Not to another country perhaps,” he answered, “but we should be able to look further beyond the horizon now. Lord knows I’ve had enough of this godforsaken swamp. It’ll be nice to settle down someplace else.”

“Absolutely.” I agreed. 

Hosea brought his gaze to Eddie who was currently helping Pearson carry in some of the sacks. “And what about the boy? He make it out alright?”

I let out a sigh. “Yeah, I think so, but...he ain’t happy, Hosea. During the whole robbery, he just had this look of disgust in his eyes. Especially after the way he saw me beat the bank manager. I think he’s feelin’ a bit guilty.”

The old man nodded in understanding. “Eddie’s not used to this life like the rest of us, Arthur. You need to give him time to adjust. Let him adapt to our world. He’ll come around eventually. But I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. Eddie seems happy to be with you. As long as you’re around, he’ll stay strong.”

A question suddenly popped up in my mind.

“Hey, that reminds me, I’ve been meanin’ to ask -- back when we was talking to Dutch about letting Eddie in the gang, you compared him to Annabelle. And Bessie.”

Hosea paused. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that not the relationship between you two?”

“No, it is,” I corrected. “I was just wondering how you knew. Did Eddie tell you?”

The old man smirked. “Didn’t need to. I, ah...I saw the way you interacted with each other back at that gala. It was a dead giveaway.”

I chuckled, admittedly slightly embarrassed. “...Ah. I see.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur,” Hosea reassured. “I know some of the fellas here have been pokin’ fun at you because of it, but truth be told, people like me, and Dutch, and Susan...we’re just happy to see you’ve finally moved on from Miss Gillis.”

A soft flutter filled my chest, and I bashfully rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, I guess I have.”

“Mary was a sweet girl,” he reminisced, “and the two of you made some wonderful memories during your time as a couple...but that’s all in the past. You and Eddie, on the other hand, have a future together. You have a chance to make something out of it. Though, that won’t happen if you allow him to continue down the path he’s currently on.”

I quirked a brow. “What d’you mean?”

Hosea gave me a sorrowful gaze, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

“...I know you were stuck in bed this past week, Arthur, but I’ve actually spoken to Eddie quite a bit since he first arrived, and I know about his past. I know Atticus Rose killed his entire family.”

“...Yeah,” I confirmed. “He’s the last one left.”

“And that ain’t easy,” Hosea empathized. “You know that. I know that. Hell, most of the people in this gang know that. But the thing that concerns me the most about Eddie is...he seems adamant to take revenge. He wants to make Atticus pay for what he’s done, and rightfully so. But you and I both know vengeance is a fool’s errand.”

“That it is.”

The old man switched to a more cautionary tone. “Eddie can be of use to us, Arthur. Not only is he a good shot, he’s also smart. We need that. But he needs you to help guide his strength in the right direction. Don’t let his desire for revenge consume him. Show him how to find peace in acceptance, and keep him safe. Can you do that?”

I gave Hosea a sincere look, peering at him from under the shadow cast by my hat.

“I intend to.”

He seemed to approve of that response. “Good. I’ve seen too many folks be killed as a result of their own actions, and I don’t know if I could watch the same thing happen to Eddie. ...But enough of that. I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure Dutch could use your help, and I’ve got matters of my own to attend to. Take care of yourself, Arthur. Things are getting rough out th--”

Zipping right past me and interrupting our conversation, a bullet suddenly implanted itself into Hosea’s forehead with a sharp bang, causing the man’s blood to splatter onto me as he collapsed to the ground.

“What the--?!” I breathed out, frantically darting my eyes around as Hosea fell into my arms. 

I dropped the man out of shock and immediately dove behind one of the camp’s barricades as another bullet came flyin’ my way, causing me to suddenly notice the horde of strangers shootin’ at us from the woods.

“...Sh-Shit!” I cursed, whipping out my guns. “Everyone! Take cover!”

Changing into fight mode, the entire gang instantly dropped what they were doing and began shooting back as they scurried behind whatever cover they could find, all of us forgettin’ about the money we just robbed.

“What the hell is this shit?!” Williamson exclaimed, cocking his rifle. “Who are these people?!”

Javier poked his head out, firing aimlessly into the forest. “Is that the law?”

“No!” I yelled back. “They don’t look like lawmen!”

“Who then? O’Driscolls?”

Dutch jumped in, puttin’ an end to our speculation. “We will figure out who these bastards are later! For now, just shoot them!”

I finally regained a portion of the senses I lost from the initial shock and stared at Hosea’s body, suddenly feelin’ like my blood was boiling once his death sunk in.

“Aw, Hosea...!” I growled through gritted teeth. “They got Hosea, Dutch!”

A dark fire ignited in his eyes.

“Goddammit...!” He whispered, his voice abruptly exploding into a hoarse shout as he began gunning down as many people as he could.

“KILL those sons-of-bitches!”

Aiming directly at my head, one of the men shot the barricade I was hidin’ behind as I ducked outta the way, causing wood and dust to splinter everywhere before I fired straight back at them.

“Eddie!” I shouted over the commotion. “Are you alive?!”

A distant voice answered me.

“I’m right here!” The boy replied.

“Good! Keep it that way!”

Continuing to shoot at our unknown enemy, I desperately fought back with nothin’ but a flimsy wall shielding me and no more than twelve bullets to defend myself as they rained hell upon us, filling my cover with more and more holes.

I was currently in one of the worst positions to be in at the moment, and since I weren’t too far from the camp’s entrance, I had the biggest target painted on my back right now.

I was running low on ammo, and I had no idea how much longer this barricade would hold up. I’d have to move soon if I wanted to stay alive.

“Has anyone seen Jack?!” John exclaimed. “If any of those assholes laid a finger on him, I swear I’ll kill them all!”

Charles fired his shotgun. “Christ...where did they even come from? How many of them are there?!”

“None once we’re done with them!” Dutch replied.

Pulling the trigger on my gun, I shot a few more bullets in their direction and put down a number of men, only to hear an empty click once I reached the end.

Shit! I couldn’t run out of ammo. Not now.

Holstering that revolver, I relied on the few remaining shots in my other one as I hurriedly maneuvered my way around the camp, dodging the oncoming fire and rolling into safety.

By now, there was bullets of all types soaring through the air in about eight different directions as they whistled past my ears, causing me to hear a sharp, ringing noise while I continued to fight.

All around me, I could see nothin’ but corpses that had been shot to hell, dirt and blood flyin’ all over the place due to the impact, gun-smoke clouding the air, and a seemingly endless army of enemies pouring out the woods. It was hell on Earth.

“Arthur!” Eddie called out. “Watch out!”

Glancing to my side, I spotted a sniper not too far away from me and managed to dodge their attack just in time as Eddie put his own bullet in the man’s head, leading his body to jolt backwards.

The pianist ran over to my location once the sniper was down, his hands clinging onto his Schofield for dear life as he slid next to me.

“You okay?” I asked him. Eddie nodded, albeit without confidence.

“For now. Jesus -- how did we not see them coming? There’s so many of them!”

“Just focus on killing ‘em! We’ll sort all this out afterwards!”

Lending me his other revolver, Eddie peeked over the top of the barricade and shot a few men who had gotten too close to the camp, getting back down just as another bullet came bolting in his direction.

The crowd of enemies seemed to be thinning out by now, and as far as I was aware, no one else had gotten killed...but even then, we were in deep shit.

We had just lost one of our best men -- a man who was like a father to me -- and now that Hosea was gone, I had no idea how Dutch was gonna cope with this.

It felt like I had just watched a flame be extinguished, and I doubted it was gonna get any easier from here on out. The gang’s lieutenant was dead, our camp was in ruins, and worst of all, we had no idea who was responsible.

Jesus. What a goddamned mess this was.

Gunning down what appeared to be the last man, Dutch took a moment to observe our surroundings as a deathly silence loomed over us following the end of the fight, our heavy breaths being the only audible sound right now.

We didn’t hear anything else. There were no movements, no footsteps, no gunfire...nothing. Did we make it? Had we truly won...? It certainly didn’t feel like a victory.

Slowly rising from cover, Eddie and I gradually stood up from the ground along with the rest of the gang as we came outta hiding, only to see what had become of our home.

There were countless bodies littering the entire property, the front of the mansion was covered in bullet holes, Hosea lay motionless in a cluster of red grass, and some of our horses had even been killed too. It looked like somethin’ straight out of a nightmare, and I mentally yelled at myself to snap out of it...but I knew this weren’t no dream.

This was reality.

And it was time for us to wake up.

Eddie let out a shaky breath, his eyes widened with shock and despair. “Is...is it over...?”

I stared blankly into the trees, suddenly feelin’ so lost and alone.

“I think so,” I murmured. “I...I dunno.”

Countering our morose mood, Dutch stormed over and took a look at Hosea’s corpse for himself, his jaw clenching in rage and heartbreak once he saw that his brother was indeed gone.

The man appeared more broken than I had ever seen in my life, and the longer he gazed hopelessly around the camp, unsure of what to do with himself...the more I feared some part of Dutch may’ve died with Hosea too. It was clear that somethin’ in him had snapped, and for the first time ever, I weren’t sure if I could mend it.

My God...what the hell was happening?

Before we could mourn any further however, a soft rustle emitted from the woods in front of us, causing everyone to perk their heads up in curiosity.

All our hands were instantly resting on our guns’ grips, and it looked like a group of people was headin’ our way...but we still couldn’t tell who they were. They didn’t wear the uniform of the law, and they didn’t resemble O’Driscolls either. In fact, I had never seen anyone like these fools. ...So just who the hell were they, exactly?

Answering my question, a familiar face suddenly emerged from the shadows, giving me a sense of dread and fear I hadn’t felt in ages.

The stranger was approaching our gang with a child in tow as his friends followed behind -- and the closer they got to our camp’s entrance, the more I started to recognize them.

Oh, shit. This was the last thing we needed.

Rodrick Kingsley gave me a malicious grin as he let out a low chuckle, the barrel of his gun pressed directly against the back of Jack’s head.

“...Remember me, sunshine?”

John instantly flew into a rage at the sight of his son, and he wasted no time in running towards him.

“Jack!”

Rodrick strengthened his hold on the gun, warning Marston to stay back.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, cowboy.”

John came to an abrupt halt, his eyes nailed onto Jack as the boy called for help.

“Pa...!” The child exclaimed. “I’m...I’m scared!”

“I know, Jack,” Marston comforted. “I know. But it’s gonna be alright. We’re gonna get you back! I won’t let these people hurt you! It’s going to be alright.”

A third, unknown voice stepped in the conversation.

“Enough, Rodrick.”

Calmly approaching the front of the group, an older man came sauntering out of the gun-smoke as he took a position in the middle, his stern, blue eyes never leaving Dutch.

The man appeared to be in his late forties and had a groomed, graying beard covering half of the wishbone-shaped scar on his right cheek, and his hair was hidden beneath a Gaucho hat.

He wore a chocolate shotgun coat over a bronze Paisley vest and had white shirt along with a black tie, as well as a pair of sleek riding boots covering his neat pants.

This man definitely looked like he could be their leader. He carried a slightly regal nature to him, and had the temperament of someone who’d rather kill than forgive. Despite the cold-blooded impression he made though, there was also something...almost fatherly about him. Like a strange sense of reason and wisdom that he somehow managed to preserve over the years. Similar to the way Hosea was...only minus the compassion.

Dutch steadily walked up to the man with his hands near his holsters as both our gangs stared each other down, silently demanding answers with a simple glare.

He tried to keep his tone as tame as possible.

“...Who...are you?” 

The other man examined Dutch for a minute and looked him back in the eye, not even blinking once as he promptly uttered a response.

“Atticus,” the man replied. “Atticus Rose.”


	20. Lion And The Lamb

From Arthur’s POV

SHADY BELLE

Doin’ our best to keep our breaths steady, Eddie and I stood perfectly still as Dutch approached the enemy gang, both of us unable to believe that Atticus Rose himself was finally here.

All this running, all this hiding, all this death -- it was because of this man.

This man was the reason Eddie's family was dead. He was the reason Eddie had to flee from his own home, and he was the reason Hosea was now gone.

Everything we had endured up to this point -- the struggle, the pain, the paranoia -- it was because of a single, goddamned, man...and he had about a hundred others standin’ behind him.

We were in deep shit.

Steppin’ up to the camp’s entrance, Atticus strolled through the lingering gun-smoke and blood-stained grass as he observed each and everyone of us, his eyes starin’ us down like a hawk.

I could tell his attention was truly focused on Eddie -- and I assumed that was the main reason he was here -- but so far, he hadn’t said a word to the boy. Instead, he simply carried on and met Dutch in the middle, acknowledging the man with a stoic but sincere expression.

A low sigh escaped Dutch.

“Mister Rose...” he said, his voice containing the same nature as a volcano about to erupt, “what is it...that you want?”

Atticus brought his gaze to Eddie, his brow furrowing with an unfriendly sense of recognition.

“...I’m afraid you have something of mine, Mister Van der Linde.”

Dutch gestured to Jack who was still bein’ held in Rodrick’s iron grip.

“And I’m afraid you have something of mine.” He scoffed. “It turns out we are both thieves in this fine country of...civilization. Aren’t we, Atticus?”

Rose shook his head. “Far as I’m concerned...we’re thieves livin’ among our own people.”

Dutch took a cautious step towards him while the rest of our gang stayed back, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice in case anythin’ went south.

“Well, Mister Rose,” he responded in an dangerously nonchalant tone, “normally I would kill you for what you did to my brother, but for the sake of that boy...I will holster my guns. For now. Regardless of whatever quarrel you may have with me however, I implore you to leave the child...out of this.”

Atticus didn’t display a shred of sympathy.

“Well, as much as I would like to,” he refused, “I can’t.”

Dutch’s fist clenched. “And why is that?”

Rose examined the people in our gang, his glare hoppin’ from one of us straight to another.

“Because in spite of all the money you’ve stolen, Mister Van der Linde...I know innocence is the only currency you truly understand. Which is why I’m willing to give the boy back.” Atticus paused, raising a finger. “For a price.”

Dutch’s patience was wearing thin.

“And what price is that?”

Atticus pointed a hand towards Eddie, causin’ the pianist to shift uncomfortably as he stood beside me.

“Give me Theodore Bishop,” the man proposed, “and I’ll return the child. If not, well...I suppose I’ll just have to take the boy with me, then.”

John nearly started another shootout right there.

“You give him back to us, now!” He shouted. “You son-of-a-bitch!”

Dutch held up an arm in front of Marston, preventing the man from going further.

“Mister Rose,” he tried to negotiate, “you are attemptin’ to make a trade with my own people.”

Atticus increased the volume of his voice. “And one of them will be mine by the end of this day, whether you approve of it or not!” He fell silent for a moment, regaining his composure. “The only choice you have right now, Dutch, is whether it’s this boy...or that one.”

Cocking his firearm, Rodrick firmly pressed the barrel of his shotgun against Jack’s head, threatenin’ to shoot the kid right then and there as Abigail frantically urged Dutch to make the trade.

“Jack!” She shrieked. “Dutch, p-please...! Get my son back! Don’t let him die! Please, Dutch! Just...just do what he says!”

Miss Grimshaw aimed her own weapon at Rodrick, provoking Atticus’ gang to aim straight back at her.

“You return that kid to his parents right now!” Susan threatened. “Or I will shoot you where you stand!”

Rodrick glanced at his own people, snickering darkly in response as he shook the boy in his grasp.

“I don’t think that’s happening, lady.”

Catchin’ my attention amidst this growing chaos, Eddie whispered something in my ear as things began to get more tense around us, his voice quiet with stress.

“I...I have to go with him, Arthur,” he said. “I have to go with Atticus.”

I turned to him with a bewildered expression.

“What--? You can’t trust that maniac, Eddie! He’ll kill you the minute he lays his hands on you!”

The pianist shook his head. “If Atticus wanted to kill me, he would’ve done it already. They had plenty of chances during that shootout, and I don’t doubt they’ve got even more men hiding somewhere in these woods. He could finish us off with a single command. I have to go with him before that happens. Otherwise, you might never see Jack again.”

I let out an irritated sigh, completely torn by this dilemma.

By no means did I want them to keep Jack, but I also despised the idea of sendin’ Eddie off with them. I mean, Atticus has been chasing us across this damn country for the past couple of months just to kill the boy. If I let Eddie fall into his hands now...Jesus, I didn’t even wanna think about what he’d do.

“This is your only chance,” Atticus warned, breakin’ me outta my thoughts. “Hand over Mister Bishop right now, or I’m taking the child with me.”

“Pa!” Jack cried. “I’m scared!”

“Jack!” Marston replied. “I’m...I’mma get you back! You’ll be alright!”

Javier turned to Dutch. “Boss...! What do we do?”

Grimshaw looked down her gun’s sights. “Well, we gotta do something! Dutch!”

“We can’t trust him, boss!” Bill advised. “For all we know, he could just end up takin’ both of them!”

“You really wanna risk them killin’ the boy?” Sadie questioned. “It’s one or the other!”

“All I’m saying,” Williamson defended, “is we gotta think about whether we can trust this guy! We give him Eddie, and then what? You really believe he’s just gonna give Jack back to us?”

Charles jumped in. “Trust or no trust, someone’s gonna get killed if we don’t make a decision soon.”

Abigail had broken into tears by now. “Please!” She wept. “Don’t let them hurt my son!”

John was completely restless now. “Dutch!”

Speaking up over all the commotion, Eddie finally gave in and stepped forward, urging Atticus to stop as the rest of the gang fell silent.

“Wait, Atticus!” He exclaimed. “Just...wait.”

Having captured the man’s attention, Eddie glanced back at me with an apologetic look as he pondered his next words, his gentle, green eyes filled with a sense of fear.

He took a deep breath.

“...I’ll...I’ll go with you,” he stated. “Just let the boy go. Please.”

Atticus narrowed his eyes in skepticism.

“Do you mean it?” He asked seriously. “Will you come with me?”

Eddie stared at the ground in shame, his brow furrowed in disgust as he negotiated with his family’s killer.

“If it means you’ll return Jack -- safely -- then...yes. I’ll come with you.”

The man seemed satisfied with that solution.

“...That works for me. Very well. Come on over here, then. And I’ll return the boy.”

Before Eddie could head to the other side though, I briefly reached out and grabbed his hand from behind, quietly beggin’ the pianist to reconsider with a cautionary look. He tightened his hand around my own in response and planted a quick kiss on my cheek, softly reassuring me.

“I know it’s pointless to ask this of you,” he whispered, “but please don’t look for me. Atticus has far too many men for your gang to fight against, and I don’t want to see you get killed, Arthur. You’ve saved my life many times already. Now...it’s my turn.”

I protested. “Eddie--”

But he was already walkin’ off. The boy didn’t even give me a chance to hold him back, and despite how much it pained me to see him go, I also understood why he had to do it.

I just...I couldn’t deny that I was terrified. One of my worst fears was watchin’ Eddie die, and now that he was wandering straight into death’s grasp -- directly into the hands of Atticus goddamned Rose -- I actually wondered if I’d ever see the man again. And it shook me to my core.

Crossin’ the imaginary border between our two gangs, Eddie stepped into the enemy’s territory and tried his best to remain composed as he walked up to Atticus, but I could tell he was just as afraid as I was. After all, there weren’t no guarantee that Rose would actually give Jack back to us like he said, and considerin’ the man had torn this country apart just to find Eddie...there was also the question of whether the boy would live to see this day end.

I just prayed he knew what he was doing.

Having Eddie now within his reach, Atticus signaled Rodrick to return Jack to his parents as the crazed redhead let out a disappointed sigh, reluctantly shoving the kid away from him with a hard push.

“Looks like you got lucky today, boy.”

Sprinting like there was no tomorrow, Jack immediately broke free and ran into Abigail’s arms, both her and John now comforting the child in a protective embrace. But things wasn’t over just yet.

Eddie gazed at me from the opposite side, his eyes widened with fear as he tried to steady his own breath.

Neither of us knew what the near-future held, and I had no idea how the hell we was supposed to get him back from Atticus...but I’d be damned if I didn’t try.

Eddie was...he was family to me. And a friend to the gang. He had helped us tremendously within these past few weeks, and if it hadn’t been for his knowledge, we probably would’ve never gotten outta Saint Denis after robbin’ that bank.

So even if our survival wasn’t guaranteed, I had to at least try to save him. I knew the boy had asked me to stay away, but...I couldn’t. I owed him my life, for god’s sake...and I was gonna do everything I could to save his.

But my train of thought was quickly interrupted when outta nowhere, Rodrick suddenly bashed the stock of his gun into Eddie’s head, knockin’ him out instantly.

I nearly lashed out just because of that, only to be held back by Dutch.

“Arthur...” He warned under his breath. I did my best to keep calm.

Hauling Eddie’s unconscious body onto the back of his horse, Atticus prepared to leave as the rest of his gang mounted up, all of them more than eager to finally get the hell out of this musty swamp as we stayed in place.

“I appreciate your cooperation, Mister Van der Linde,” he called out. “But I think it’d be best if we never crossed paths again. Our business is concluded, and I’d like to keep it that way.” Atticus snapped his horse’s reins. “Oh -- and one more thing...”

He began trottin’ out of the woods. “...Don’t follow us.”

Breaking into a gallop, Atticus and his people began riding away from Shady Bell with Eddie in tow as they disappeared in the fog like phantoms, leavin’ us alone with our destroyed home.

Every fiber in my being wanted to chase after them and bring Eddie back, but I knew that’d be a suicide mission, considering how many more men Atticus had than us. And I was no good to the boy dead.

I’d just have to wait for the right moment to save him. There weren’t no way in hell I was rescuin’ him all by myself, and I didn’t even know where they was planning on taking him in the first place.

I just hoped Eddie could survive until then. He was bein’ dragged to god-knows-where by his worst enemy at the moment, and for the first time since I met him -- I was powerless to do anything. It made me feel weak, and I hated it.

Fortunately though, I knew Eddie was strong. He had learned a lot durin’ our time together, and I could only trust he knew what he was doing now that he was by himself.

After all, things weren’t nearly as simple as they used to be no more, and this time...I wasn’t gonna be able to help him. Until I found an opportunity to track Atticus down, that boy was gonna have to rely on himself to stay alive.

Eddie was headed straight for a lion’s den...and we all knew there weren’t no angels protectin’ us in this world.

~~~~~~~~~~

LATER THAT DAY

DUTCH’S OFFICE

“We gotta get him back, Dutch,” I insisted, pacing around his office while he sat as his desk with Micah resting on the edge. “We gotta find Eddie...! They’ll...they’ll kill him!”

Dutch leaned forward in his chair. “And we will, but I need you to stay calm, Arthur. We ain’t gonna be doing that boy no favors by panicking.”

“I know!” I replied, attemptin’ to relax once I realized how nervous I sounded. “...I know.”

As always, Micah didn’t seem bothered in the slightest and dismissed the whole situation, continuing to sharpen his knife.

“Don’t know ‘bout you fellers, but I say we just let the boy go.”

I threw a glare at him. “The hell you talkin’ about?”

Micah spread his arms out. “Look around you, cowpoke. We got enough bullet holes decoratin’ our walls that there’s a draft in the room now. And of course, there’s the fact that Hosea’s dead, too. Bringing Mister Ryan here has caused us nothin’ but trouble. So, I say we cut him loose. That way, we can carry on with our miserable lives, and keep Atticus off our backs.”

I didn’t even bother with bein’ civil this time and got right in his face, listing off all the shit he had pulled these last six months.

“And what about your ‘genius’ ferry job back in Blackwater, huh? Or when you got yourself arrested in Strawberry, and lost your mind before shootin’ up half the goddamned town? For a pair of guns, no less! And don’t even get me started on the bullshit in Rhodes.” I lowered my voice slightly, glowering at the man. “...Far as I’m concerned, Micah, if we’re gonna cut Eddie loose, your ass is gettin’ lost with him."

Micah stood up from the desk. “Now there’s no need to get...irate, Morgan. All I’m sayin’ is: we’d be better off without that boy’s company. He’s nothin’ but bait for Atticus and his gang. So why not just let ‘em take him? They’d be happy, and we’d be safe! Problem solved.”

Dutch disagreed. “That ain’t happening. That ‘boy’ rescued Arthur from the O’Driscolls single-handedly, and aided us in robbing the biggest bank in this state. We don’t cut people like him...loose.”

Holding up his hands in a defeated manner, Micah slowly sauntered out of the office and left me and Dutch to our own devices.

“Have it your way,” he gave in. “I’ve had my say. Good day...gentlemen.”

Shutting what remained of the door behind him, Micah disappeared from sight and exited the manor, leadin’ Dutch to take on a more solemn tone as he broke the silence by asking a mournful question.

Not only did the man sound absolutely exhausted despite the thousands of dollars we’d just robbed, he also seemed genuinely broken by everything that just occurred. And I didn’t blame him one bit for it.

“Oh, Hosea...” Dutch whispered, resting his elbows on his knees. He brought his grief-stricken gaze to me. “I...I am gonna miss that man, Arthur. I surely am.”

I leaned against one of the peeling walls, crossing my arms.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“He was a brother to me, and my closest friend. He was there ever since the beginning, and he helped me raise you. Things definitely ain’t gonna feel the same without him around. Not the same at all.”

Dutch peered outside the office’s shattered windows, the pale sunlight emphasizing the bags under his eyes.

“I noticed you was talkin’ with Hosea before he got killed. He seemed...pretty captivated by whatever he was saying. ...Care to share his final thoughts? What was he talking about? What was he thinking? He have any last wishes?”

I crossed my arms, thinkin’ back to the memory as if it happened years ago.

“...Well, I dunno what he was thinking, but Hosea wanted me to keep Eddie safe,” I revealed. “Wanted me to help guide the boy in the right direction. Make sure he didn’t turn into a killer. Make sure his desire for revenge didn’t end up consuming him.”

Dutch quirked a brow. “Revenge? For what?”

“This ain’t the first time Atticus has wronged Eddie,” I explained. “The man killed his whole family back in England. Chased him all the way here. That’s why he changed his name.”

The other man nodded in understanding. “I was wonderin’ why Mister Rose kept calling him ‘Theodore.”

“So what’re we gonna do, Dutch?” I asked. “Our camp is in ruins, Hosea’s dead, and Atticus...he ain’t no joke. He’s got dozens of men and O’Driscolls backin’ him up. Meanwhile, we’ve got next to nothing.”

Dutch paused at that, the determination returning to his expression as he shook his head.

“No,” he corrected. “Not nothing. We have...an advantage. An opportunity to take him by surprise.”

That caught my attention. “Advantage? How?”

“Atticus came to retrieve Eddie personally,” Dutch pointed out. “He came out of hiding. And when people come out of hiding, they feel invincible. He believes he’s winning this war. He thinks we’re just gonna...cower in these woods like a bunch of rats and let him do what he wants just ‘cause he’s got a few extra guns. Well, I’ll tell you what, Arthur --”

Dutch rose from his seat and began approaching me.

“We are gonna find out where his camp is, we are gonna take him by surprise, and we are gonna get that boy back. He won’t be expecting us to retaliate, so I think it’s only right...if we prove him wrong.”

Regardless of my desire to locate Eddie, I was still somewhat doubtful about our next move.

“I’m with you to the end, Dutch, but are you sure? Atticus has a small goddamn army. I ain’t sure how we’re supposed to take that many people by surprise.”

A grin crept onto his face. “Because no lion expects to be attacked by a lamb. Trust me on this, Arthur. It’s our only option if we wanna get Eddie back alive. I just need you to have my back. You’re the only one I can rely on to stay strong now that Hosea’s gone. Can you do that? Will you trust me?”

Unable to see any other way outta this, I agreed to go along with the plan and nodded in approval, forcing myself to keep my head high.

“I can,” I answered. “And I will.”

Dutch seemed pleased and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, saying one last thing before makin’ his way to the door.

“Thank you, son. Atticus Rose had robbed us of our home, robbed us of our safety, and robbed us of my brother. We will not let him rob Hosea of his final wish. That, I promise you.”


	21. The Last One

From Eddie’s POV

THAT NIGHT

FORT BRENNAND

Struggling in my restraints, I made a futile attempt to shake out of the shackles holding me as the harsh metal scraped against my wrists, causing me to hiss in pain as the cuffs gently clinked throughout the lonely cellar.

It didn’t look like anyone above had noticed what I was doing -- or at least trying to do -- but it didn’t matter much anyways. Without someone to help me, or some sort of tool to break free, I wasn’t going anywhere for a long time. There were far too many guards surrounding me -- as well as some loyal hounds they had trained -- and considering my history with Atticus, I doubted the man was just gonna “forget” about me anytime soon.

If there was any hope of me escaping this place, I’d need help to do it.

I let out a disappointed sigh and allowed my arms to slouch in the shackles, thinking to myself as the night carried on.

What the hell was happening...? How did I end up here? It was only this morning that I was robbing a bank with Dutch, and now, not only was Hosea dead, I had also fallen right back into Atticus Rose’s grasp...after so many years of trying to avoid him.

Part of me almost felt that it’d be best if I just took off on my own, and left the gang behind. I didn’t want to leave Arthur alone, and I loved that man more than anything, but I was putting his life in danger simply just by being around him.

Everything we had gone through, all the people we’d killed -- it was because Arthur was trying to protect me. I was the one thing bringing Atticus’ attention to him and his gang, and I was also the reason that Hosea was now gone.

Perhaps they’d be better off without my company. They had enough to worry about aside from Atticus, and it wasn’t as if I had never been on my own before. Maybe leaving Dutch was the best option. Maybe I could just...disappear somewhere in the country, and never come back. But...I also couldn’t just forget about Arthur either. I couldn’t abandon him.

That man had done so much for me, and shown me a sort of love I’d never experienced before. I had no idea how I didn’t realize it sooner, but Arthur was my freedom. He was the only thing separating Theodore from Eddie, and without him, my life would’ve honestly felt pointless.

I mean, my whole family was already gone. My father, my mother, my sister -- none of them were coming back. And my home was nothing but a distant dream now. Arthur was all I had left, and I’d be damned if I ran away from him too.

Breaking my train of thought, the sound of someone opening the cellar’s door suddenly reached my ears as they pushed it open with a firm thud, strolling inside as if they didn’t have a single care in the world. It was Rodrick.

The deranged man brought a cigar up to his mouth and took a drag, making the smoke dancing around his face in an enigmatic manner as he approached me step by step. He let out a cold chuckle.

“There he is...” Rodrick thought aloud. “...The very last Bishop.”

I was silent in response and simply threw a glare at him, causing the man to walk even closer to me as I turned away.

He crouched down.

“Y’know,” Rodrick began, “when I first told Atticus that you was runnin’ around with Dutch goddamn van der Linde, and falling in love with his right-hand man...heh, he didn’t believe me. Looked me square in the eye and said he thought it was bullshit. Told me he wouldn’t believe it until he saw it with his own, two eyes.”

Rodrick paused for a moment and brought the cigar up to his lips again, afterwards letting out a nonchalant sigh before continuing to speak.

“That’s important, you know?” He pointed out. “If you wanna survive in this beautiful country, you can’t just go around believing every damn thing that everyone tells you. Words ain’t nothin’ but a mask, and it’s a hell of a lot easier to dodge a bullet when you can see it coming.”

I disregarded what he was saying and went straight to the point, eager to get out of here.

“Look, what do you want?” I snapped. “Why hasn’t Atticus killed me yet? I thought that was the whole point of bringing me here.”

Rodrick looked disappointed in my lack of interest in his games and shook his head, but answered me nonetheless.

“Because you clearly ain’t the same little boy we last saw in England,” he replied. “You’ve obviously learned a thing or two since our last encounter. And the truth is: Atticus doesn’t need you dead. He just needs you to be under his control. Besides...with your newfound skills, I’m sure Atticus could find a use for you.”

I instantly rejected the idea. “That bastard’s out of his goddamn mind if he thinks I’m doing anything for him--!”

Rodrick suddenly threw a strong fist at my gut, causing me to cough aggressively as a grin stretched on his pale face.

“Haven’t you noticed, pretty boy?” He taunted with a laugh, leaning dangerously close to me. “We’re all out of our minds. But I wouldn’t worry too much. You’ll come around eventually. It’s just gonna take some...persuasion.”

I scoffed, still slightly dazed from the punch. “...And you’re going to be the one doing the persuading, are you?”

Rodrick rose to his feet and spread his arms out in a proud manner, giving me one last smirk before taking his leave.

“Well...somebody’s gotta do it. And who better than the man with so much...charm?” He fell silent for a second. “I won’t lie to you, Theo. It’s gonna be a long road from here on out. So take care of yourself, you hear? Because Atticus certainly won’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~

From Arthur’s POV

OUTSIDE FORT BRENNAND

Observing the gang’s hideout from a distant gathering of trees, Dutch, John, Charles, and I all hid among the bushes as we scouted the place out, searchin’ for any signs of a covert entrance or clues that coulda told us where Eddie was.

We had managed to follow Atticus’ tracks back to an abandoned fort not too long after he took the boy, but now that I actually knew what we was dealin’ with exactly, I could already tell that getting Eddie outta there was gonna be a completely different story.

So far, all we could see was a shit ton of Atticus’ men along with a decently-sized group of some O’Driscolls, and from our angle, it looked like they had a number of supply wagons goin’ in and out at all times. Probably sending their people out to raid and bring whatever they stole back to the camp. It was an effective process, if a bit blatant, but now I could certainly see why Atticus’ gang was so strong.

I lowered my binoculars, turnin’ to speak to Dutch.

“It’s a goddamn fortress...!” I whispered. “These fools actually got walls to hide behind, and even more men to guard ‘em. Ain’t no way we can just attack a place like this. We’re gonna have to find another way in.”

Dutch continued searching through his own binoculars, his gaze stuck on the main entrance.

“I’m all up for ideas. Any of you boys see a weak point in their walls? Could be a sloppily patched hole somewhere, or a blind spot we can scale.”

Charles shook his head. “No. If anything, it looks like they’ve reinforced the fort’s protections. If we’re gonna scale the walls, we’ll need to draw their attention elsewhere.”

John offered a suggestion. “Wait, what about the supply wagons?”

Dutch quirked a brow. “What about them?”

Marson thought a for a minute. “Well...maybe a few of us could sneak into them. Enter the fort all nice and quiet-like. Maybe sabotage some o’ their supplies while we’re at it. That’ll draw their attention away from the walls. Meanwhile, the rest of the gang could climb up. Take out the guards up top while they ain’t looking. That way, we’ll have men on the inside and outside.”

The older man almost sounded impressed. “...You know what? That idea ain’t half-bad.”

I chuckled softly, returning to my binoculars as I continued to examine the fort. “I’m tellin’ you, Dutch...we oughta let them wolves have a go at this boy more often.”

John’s expression flattened with annoyance. “Shut up, Arthur.”

“I’m just saying, you’ve been suspiciously clever ever since they ate half your brain.”

He sighed in irritation. “I’m startin’ to wish you woulda let them eat all of it at this point--”

“--Hush, you two,” Dutch jumped in, grabbin’ our attention. “Look who’s entering the fort right now.”

Focusing our sights on the main gate, the four of us watched with a newfound curiosity as we fell completely silent, lookin’ to see who Atticus’ guest was. They appeared to have arrived with an especially large supply wagon as well as a handful of men to guard it while they trotted up to the entrance, all full of themselves.

There was crates of dynamite, food, moonshine, and weapons sittin’ in the back, and the more I examined their mounts, the more I realized they probably stole them from our camp. The bastards. Was there anything Atticus didn’t take?

Bringing my binoculars back to the guest, I zoomed in a few times before studyin’ their appearance, only to realize it was none other than Colm O’Driscoll himself. Of course.

“The hell is Colm doing here?” Charles questioned. I let out a worried breath.

“He and Atticus have some sort of...partnership going on,” I explained. “They’re teamin’ up against us. Though, I hadn’t seen Colm ever since Eddie broke me outta his camp. And I certainly didn’t expect to see him again after that shitstorm. Makes you wonder why he’s suddenly decidin’ to show up now.”

Dutch recommended an idea. “Well, maybe this is our chance to find out. John and Charles, you two stay here a while longer and keep scoutin’ this place out. Tell me everything you find when you get back. And be discreet. Arthur, you and I’ll go back to camp and think of a plan to assault this fort. Maybe we can build off of John’s suggestion. Either way, we need to move quick. Atticus has proven himself to be a man who doesn’t waste time, and we can’t let him get away with Mister Ryan. Lord knows what they’re doin’ to him now.”

I sighed in nervousness. “...If it’s anything like what they did to me, it ain’t good.”

Dutch switched to a more reassuring tone. “Have faith, Arthur. We will get Eddie out of there before it’s too late. Tell him, John.”

Marston gave me a sincere look. “Eddie gave himself up to save Jack. Me and Abigail will do whatever we can to help. That boy’ll be fine.”

I tried to hide how much this situation was truly scarin’ me and kept a straight face, simply staring blankly at the grass below.

“I sure hope so.”

Dutch packed his binoculars and began walking towards his horse, signaling me to follow.

“Anyway, we should get moving. Not only do we have a man to rescue, we also gotta figure out where to move our camp next. Shady Belle ain’t safe for us no more, and I don’t want a repeat of what happened this morning. We’ve got to leave.”

I climbed on top of my own mount which I had switched out with Bullet and gave the big boy a pat on the neck, lightly kicking my spurs into his sides as I rode alongside Dutch.

“And what about...Hosea?” I asked, my voice a bit softer than I intended. “What’re we gonna do about him?”

Dutch’s face sank with sorrow at the thought. “I...I sent Bill and Lenny out to bury him somewhere proper. Somewhere peaceful, and away from this horrible swamp. I’m thinkin’ of paying him a visit later, once we get things settled.”

I nodded in agreement. “I might come with you.”

The older man’s melancholy was suddenly replaced with a sense of anger, and he gazed at me through the night’s darkness, giving me a determined glare.

“He’s the last one, Arthur. No more. We ain’t losing anyone else. Especially not to Mister Rose, or to those goddamned Pinkertons! We are survivors, for God’s sake. We fight to live free, and I will not allow these...sheep to think they can simply kick us around! Hosea said it himself: people like Eddie are the reason we do what we do. People like him are the reason we’re more than just common outlaws and criminals. Because unlike Atticus, and unlike Colm, we have got something to live for. And I’ll be damned if I let them take that from us.”

I picked up my pace and broke into a gallop as Dutch and I entered the more open fields, the two of us ridin’ underneath the moonlight while we headed back home.

“Well, whatever we do next, Dutch...” I said, “I’m with you.”

He glanced over at me, his brown eyes filled with a sense of protection.

“I know, son,” he replied gently. “I know.”


	22. Red Dead Revenge

From Arthur’s POV

THE FOLLOWING NIGHT

SHADY BELLE

“Alright, folks,” Dutch said with a heavy sigh as he addressed the whole gang, his voice low with sorrow. “I know...these past couple o’ days have been hard on everyone, and I know we’ve just lost Hosea...but despite all these hardships, we need to stay strong. You understand? Each and every one of us. We need to keep moving.”

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

“Now, I’m still looking for a safe place for us to move camp, and I’ve already got my eye on an area called Roanoke Ridge. I’m planning to send a few people out to scout the place, but before we worry about any of that, we’ve got a friend to rescue first...”

Dutch laid out a map on a wooden table and placed his hands on the surface, explaining his plan as we huddled around him.

“...and here’s how we’re gonna do it.”

He slid his finger across the map, givin’ out instructions.

“I sent John and Charles to do some scouting earlier, and accordin’ to them, Eddie’s being held in the fort’s cellar. That correct?”

Marston nodded. “It’s what we heard them O’Driscolls saying.”

Charles added on. “He’s also under heavy guard.”

Dutch brought his attention back to the map. “Then we’ll have to do this quietly. If either Atticus or Colm discovers we’re there, they’ll kill Eddie instantly, assuming he’s still alive. We’ve got to be discreet.”

He pointed at the main gate. “Arthur and Micah -- the two of you will sneak into the supply wagons with me, and we’ll slip in through the main gate.”

I mentally groaned to myself, suddenly feelin’ all the less eager about this mission. Out of all people...

“We’ll make our way around the lower level and take out as many guards as possible,” Dutch continued. “After that, we’ll go to the cellar and retrieve Eddie. Once we have him though, we’re gonna burn the very same wagons we used and cause a distraction. That’s when the rest of you jump in.”

Dutch moved his finger to the outer parts of the fort. “Charles, Javier, and John -- you three will climb up the east wall while Bill, Lenny, and Sadie make their way up the west one. Wait until we start the fire, and then kill every man you see up there. That way, they won’t notice you before you’ve reached the top of the wall. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to start the attack.”

“Understood.” Bill said.

I furrowed my brow in confusion. “Wait, we’re attackin’ the fort? I thought we was just gonna sneak in and rescue Eddie.”

Dutch nodded in confirmation. “We are, but we also need to make sure Atticus never does this to us again. We need to send a message. And we can’t do that if we just...scurry off like cockroaches.”

I crossed my arms, unconvinced. “I dunno, Dutch. You sure this won’t just make things worse? I mean, Atticus has more than enough people to spare. What if we get cornered by all of ‘em inside that fort?”

The older man glanced at me, ignoring my argument. “Well, by that point, our people will be in control of both the upper and lower levels, so all we have to worry about on the way out is the extra guards that’ll most-likely come runnin’ once they realize their supplies are on fire. But with all of us combined, and Eddie back in our grasp, that should be nothing we can’t handle. So...is everyone clear on what they’re doing?”

“Yes, Dutch.” Everyone replied, includin’ me, despite my doubts.

He rolled up the map and got his guns ready, beckoning us to follow.

“Then let’s give these goddamn bastards exactly what’s comin’ to them.”

~~~~~~~~~~

OUTSIDE FORT BRENNAND

Keepin’ a close eye on the pair of supply wagons, Micah and I quietly tailed them from a distance while Dutch followed ‘em from the opposite side of the road, his hidden frame poking out from the bushes every now and again as the three of us advanced inch by inch.

Micah let out a soft chuckle, givin’ me a friendly nudge.

“Y’know, it’s good to be out here with you again, Morgan,” he whispered. “I missed doin’ these missions with you. How come we never work together anymore, hmm?”

I sighed in annoyance. “Because unlike you, I have no intentions of gettin’ shot.”

He shook his head. “Still grumpy as the day you was born. But that’s okay. I know brothers can annoy each other sometimes. Hell, mine’s even tried to shoot me.”

“And if you don’t shut up, I’ll do the job for him. Now, keep quiet.”

Zooming in with my binoculars, I continued to observe the wagons as they moved further along the road, moving at a casual pace.

So far, the O’Driscolls drivin’ the wagons hadn’t seemed to notice us yet and chatted idly with each other as they steadily approached the fort, completely oblivious to our presence. I halted my movement for a second, hopin’ to catch a few words.

“--How much longer till we’re there?” One of them asked.

“Just a few more minutes,” the other answered flatly. “Why d’you ask?”

His friend let out a breath and pulled on his horse’s reins. “I gotta take a piss. Hold still for a moment, will you? And keep an eye out.”

The second O’Driscoll scoffed, bringing his own wagon to a stop. “You’re tellin’ me to keep an eye out? You’re the one who got knocked out by that Bishop boy when he came to rescue Morgan.

The first one groaned. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Well, considering that boy burned down our camp, killed a third of our men, and shot Colm in the hand, no. To be honest, I’m surprised he didn’t kill you himself. Be glad this is all you’re getting.”

He hopped off the wagon and wandered into the woods, wavin’ an annoyed hand. “...Yeah, yeah.”

Disappearing behind the bushes, the first O’Driscoll went to relieve himself while his friend stayed behind, sittin’ in his wagon’s seat in a bored manner. Neither of them seemed to suspect anything just yet, and the fort was far enough that we could slip right under the wagons’ covers without worrying about an extra pair of eyes spotting us.

I turned to Micah, the two of us exchanging looks before proceeding with the plan.

“Now’s our chance, Arthur...!” He whispered urgently. 

I gestured at the rear wagon. “Right. You and Dutch sneak into that one. I’ll climb into the one up front.”

“Aww, Arthur...” Micah teased in an insincerely grateful tone. “You’re givin’ me a spot next to the big man? Ain’t that fine.”

I rolled my eyes at him, quietly sneakin’ out of my hiding spot. “Well I sure as hell ain’t givin’ you a spot next to me. Now, go on. We don’t got much time. And don’t shoot nobody, unless you have to.”

“You know me, cowpoke. Always followin’ orders.”

I grimaced at him, muttering under my breath. “...Yeah, sure...”

Slithering through the cool grass and onto the dirt road, I slowly snuck my way to the front wagon while Dutch and Micah met up in the other one, our footsteps replaced by a soft, rustlin’ sound.

The O’Driscoll that was still there appeared to be too preoccupied to notice the trio of degenerates that was lettin’ themselves into his precious cargo and simply whistled to himself, tryin’ to pass the time. His partner had yet to return, and the only other company he had was the small rabbits hoppin’ around underneath his vehicle.

I softly lifted the cover of his wagon with a feather touch and climbed in, gently settling in with the crates packed around me. Now, I was just hopin’ that Dutch and Micah made it in too.

Pausing my thought process, the first O’Driscoll finally came strolling back as his friend called out to him, clearly annoyed by the wait.

“There you are...!” He said, taking hold of the reins. “Can we get this over with, already?”

The other one climbed back onto his wagon, sighing in response. “Oh, calm down, you bastard. I’m coming.”

It didn’t sound like he knew Dutch and Micah were inside. Good.

“Well, come on then. Let’s go! Colm’s waiting for us.”

Snapping the reins, the O’Driscolls wasted no time in gettin’ the wagons moving again as they mindlessly carried us straight into their fort, totally unaware of what was about to happen. It seemed like everything was goin’ according to plan so far -- minus the piss break -- and I prayed it stayed that way the rest of the night. After all, if there was any plan we couldn’t afford to mess up, it was this one.

Just thinking about what Atticus could’ve possibly been doing to Eddie made my insides twist, and I still felt incredibly guilty for lettin’ that son-of-a-bitch just...walk off with him.

I mean -- I was there. I was by Eddie’s side when the man took him, and I still failed to protect that boy. Like a goddamned coward, I froze up and simply watched the pianist wander into Rose’s trap, and now, I didn’t even know if he was alive anymore.

No, I told myself. I couldn’t think that way. Eddie needed me to be strong right now. I had to remember what Dutch said: panicking weren’t gonna do him no favors.

He was alive, and he was bein’ held in the fort’s cellar, just like Marston said. All we had to do was sneak in, find the boy, and break him out. And once that was finished, we’d get the hell away from Saint Denis, and bring Eddie somewhere safe.

Everything was gonna be okay.

Eddie was gonna be okay.

And Atticus...well...

...that was a different story. If I ran into Atticus tonight, there was gonna be more than hell to pay.

~~~~~~~~~~

INSIDE FORT BRENNAND

A FEW MINUTES LATER

Slowing down with a slight jolt, the wagon finally came to a stop as it rolled through the fort’s entrance, causin’ the orange glow of lanterns and torches to seep through as the other O’Driscolls’ silhouettes suddenly became visible.

It looked like there were four of them surrounding us at the moment, includin’ the drivers who brought us in, and it didn’t seem like they was gonna check the cargo. Right now, all they were concerned about was gettin’ this stuff to Colm, and getting some shut-eye. ...What the hell kinda plan was Colm devising to need all this shit? And why were so many of his men at Atticus’ camp? Part o’ me didn’t wanna know.

I peeked just over the wagon’s edge, hopin’ to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

“These are all the supplies?” One of the guards asked.

The driver hopped down from his seat. “Yep. This is everything Colm asked for.”

“Good,” they replied. “Then maybe we can finally put an end to Dutch’s boys. Get them off our backs while we figure out what to do with Ryan. Or Bishop. Or whatever the hell his name is.”

The second driver joined the conversation, leaving Dutch and Micah alone in his wagon as he walked over.

“Why is that boy even still alive, anyway?” He asked. “I thought Atticus wanted to kill him.”

“He did at first, but apparently the boy’s got more skill than they anticipated. Seems like he’s learned a lot during his time with Dutch. They’re thinking of forcing him to work for the gang.”

The other O’Driscoll scoffed. “I wouldn’t count on it. I heard he bit one of the guards on the hand as they was draggin’ him down to the cellar. Had to get two other men to come and calm him down.”

I stopped myself from chucklin’ at that and put a hand over my mouth, smirking at the chaotic image. Why was I not surprised?

He sighed. “Yeah, well...that’s why they’ve got Rodrick. He’s got a thing for using pain to get what he wants. Give the boy a beating or two and I’m sure he’ll come around soon enough.”

“Welp, I suppose it ain’t our concern anyway. I just wanna get away from these marshlands. Hopefully, Colm’ll move the gang someplace else.”

“We shall see.”

Going back to their business, the four O’Driscolls began to scatter across the fort as they abandoned the wagons, leavin’ us to our own devices.

Double-checking to make sure they was really gone, I slipped out from the wagon’s cover and landed on the ground beneath, lightly knocking on Dutch’s wagon to give him the all-clear.

“Dutch,” I whispered, “it’s me. The O’Driscolls are gone. You can come out now.”

There was a brief moment of rustling as Dutch and Micah steadily made their way outta the vehicle, eventually exposin’ themselves to the cool, night air.

Dutch took a breath of relief and crouched next to me, the three of us staying hidden behind some crates of supplies as we figured out what to do next.

“Ugh. Never thought I’d be so happy to present myself to an O’Driscoll camp,” he muttered. “Them wagons looked much bigger on the outside.”

Micah darted his eyes all over the fort, makin’ sure no one was within earshot.

“So, boss, what’re we doin’ next?”

Dutch pointed to the east side. “Well, John and Charles said the entrance to the cellar is somewhere over there. ‘Parently, there’s a ladder that goes straight down to the basement. Eddie should be inside.”

I took my knife out. “Only one way to find out.”

He nodded. “My thoughts exactly. Now everyone, keep your eyes peeled. We wanna take down as many people as we can, but don’t alert anyone. Not before we get Eddie, anyway.”

Micah quirked a brow. “And after we get him?”

Dutch slid out his own blade and peeked over the pile of crates, signaling us to follow him as we began our mission.

“Then, we rain hell on these bastards.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A LITTLE LATER

Creepin’ around camp like a pack of wolves, the three of us stuck close to the shadows as we searched for Eddie, slicing the throats of any O’Driscolls that stood in our way.

By now, there was heavy rain showerin’ all over the fort along with some lightning flashing in the distance -- and even though the loud pattering managed to drown out any noise we was making -- I had to say, the strong, icy wind certainly didn’t help to make things easier. If anything, it seemed like the storm was actually wakin’ up some of the folks sleeping in this camp. We’d have to be extra careful from here on out if we wanted to stay undetected.

Hidin’ behind a nearby wall, I practically embedded myself into the structure as a guard came strolling by, the dim glow of his lantern just barely outlining his body in the thick rain.

I stayed perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle.

Goddammit, I thought to myself. Why were we bothering launching an attack on Atticus? I knew Dutch was still livid because of what happened to Hosea -- and truth be told, so was I. But if it was up to me, I woulda just been focused on finding Eddie and getting him the hell outta here. There weren’t no need to start a second bloodbath.

I sighed to myself, growing increasingly worried about the situation with every passing second. I said it a million times before, and I’d say it again. Vengeance was an idiot’s game.

I mean, I wouldn’t exactly grieve if Atticus were to somehow get killed, but going after him like this...it was only going to make things even more dire. And that was the last thing we needed.

Movin’ closer to the cellar’s entrance, I snuck my way behind a stagecoach while Micah joined me from the opposite direction, knockin’ out a guard along the way as Dutch followed from behind. Thank god he had some skill to make up for his idiocy.

“...Morgan!” He whispered, pointing to the basement’s door. “I think that’s it. Why don’t you go on down and save your friend so we can leave?”

“Alright,” I replied, “but I’mma need someone to keep watch at the door. I don’t want anyone creepin’ up on me.”

Dutch hurried over to me, keeping his head low. “I’ll come. Micah, you stay here and let us know if anything goes south. We’ll be in and out.”

The other man nodded. “Alright, but try to make it quick. There’s lots of Colm’s boys in this area.”

“Good. There’ll be more of them to kill.” Dutch turned to me with a savage look in his eyes. “C’mon, Arthur. Let’s you and I head downstairs and show these bastards that they ain’t takin’ anyone else from us. ...We’re the ones on top tonight. So let’s take advantage of it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE CELLAR

Climbing down the rickety ladder, Dutch and I lowered ourselves into the dark basement as Micah remained outside, all three of us anxious to get this over with.

There weren’t no tellin’ when somebody was gonna set off the alarm or discover one of our people too early, and I didn’t wanna stay here long enough to see it happen. We had to get this done, and we had to get it done now.

Navigatin’ through the dimly lit cellar, I spotted a limp figure sitting against one of the walls with their hands shackled above their head, and the closer I got to them, the more I recognized their face.

It was Eddie.

“I see him, Dutch!” I whispered. The man stayed near the entrance, constantly glancing upwards to make sure no one would interrupt us.

“Then go get him!” He responded. “I’ll stand guard. Let you know if any unwanted visitors show up, but we can’t stay here too long.”

Rushing over to Eddie, I knelt beside the boy and looked him over, checkin’ his condition. He didn’t look like he had been harmed all that bad, and I was sure he’d be okay. But even in this darkness, I could still see a few fresh cuts and bruises scattered here and there. Most-likely Rodrick’s doing.

An angered breath escaped me. How could I have let this happen?

Takin’ on a more gentle approach, I lightly rested my hands on Eddie’s shoulders and woke him up, trying not to alert him.

“...Eddie?” I quietly called, shaking him slightly. “Eddie, can you hear me?”

The pianist’s eyes snapped open at the sound of his name, and he flinched upon seeing me.

I retreated my hands, attempting to calm him down. “Whoa...! Relax, Eddie. It’s just me. Arthur.”

Eddie squinted through the shadowy atmosphere, his frightened expression softening with relief once he recognized me.

“...A-Arthur?” He said in disbelief, his voice shaky and weak. “What are you doing here...? I...I told you not to follow me.”

“Shh,” I comforted, reaching in my satchel for a lock-breaker. “I’m gonna get you outta here. You’re gonna be safe. Just hold on.”

Sticking the device in the shackles’ keyholes, I wasted no time in breaking them off Eddie’s arms with a soft, metallic bang, only for him to instantly wrap them around me as he buried himself in my chest.

I held the boy close, placing a comforting hand on the back of his head.

“It’s okay,” I reassured. “I got you. You’re safe now. But we gotta get moving. It ain’t gonna be long till they figure out we’re here. D’you know where your weapons are?”

Eddie nodded and wandered over to a nearby chest, hurriedly retrieving his supplies and revolvers, includin’ the Schofield I gifted him so long ago.

“Those bastards hardly left anything behind,” he cursed, sifting through the damn-near empty chest. “Rodrick even burned the portrait you drew all those months ago. Set it aflame right in front of me. I thought it was the last time I’d ever see anything from you.”

I sighed in a sympathetic tone, shakin’ my head. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I shoulda never let you go with them. ...But that don’t matter now. Dutch has a plan. Not only are we gonna get you far away from here, we are also gonna raise hell on the way out. Dutch ain’t stayin’ silent after what Atticus did.”

Eddie strapped his gun belt on and gave me a look of determination, his temperament devoid of all remorse.

“And neither am I.”

~~~~~~~~~~

FORT BRENNAND

Climbing back out into the open, Eddie and I met Dutch at the top as he came speedin’ towards us through the pouring rain, no longer bothering to stay in the shadows. I could see an orange light in the distance as well as a number of sparks flyin’ above it, and it sounded like shots were already being fired.

“You found him!” Dutch noticed. “Oh, it is good to see you safe and sound, Mister Ryan.”

“And you, Dutch.”

I gestured to the light. “What the hell’s goin’ on? Did Colm figure out we’re here already?”

Dutch chuckled, whipping out his guns. “Didn’t have to. I told Micah to set the supply wagons on fire earlier, and now the rest of the gang’s taken control of the walls just as I planned. We are officially burning this dump to the ground! Now...are you with me, or not?”

I brandished my own revolvers, preparin’ for the fight ahead. “We’re always with you, Dutch.”

The other man smiled wickedly, cocking his pistols.

“Then let’s do this.”

Advancing towards the main gate, Dutch, Eddie, and I relentlessly stormed through the center of the fort as we shot down every goddamned O’Driscoll in our path, lightin’ the place up with a hundred bullets while the rest of the gang sniped them from the walls.

Everywhere around us, there was bodies fallin’ left and right as Atticus’ men came bolting over to help, only to get gunned down themselves. Blood had already begun to stain the soaked ground beneath us, and with every O’Driscoll that we killed, it felt like there was more of ‘em layin’ dead than standing up.

It was the sweet payback Dutch had been wanting ever since Hosea’s death, and most-likely the undoing of his remaining sanity.

“You thought we wouldn’t fight back?!” He shouted over the thunderous gunshots, prowling through the vicious rain.

Eddie stepped up and rapidly fired a number of bullets from the hip, aiming for the crates of dynamite and blowin’ them up without hesitation. It almost seemed as if the boy was enjoying this somehow, and as much as I wanted to kill every son-of-a-bitch in this fort, I was also worried that Eddie’s display of violence here was exactly what Hosea warned me about.

I couldn’t allow him to become consumed by rage like Dutch, or even Sadie. I couldn’t stand by and watch him become obsessed with killing Atticus. When the time came, I’d have to talk with him. At the moment however, I gladly followed his actions and tore this camp to shreds, eager to get the hell outta here.

Breaking through the main gate, a group of reinforcements suddenly showed up with a gatling gun in their grasp, and before I knew it, a wave of bullets was soarin’ straight at us.

We all ducked instantly and took cover behind whatever structures were left in the camp, watchin’ as the ammo came flying above our heads.

Javier immediately called out to us from one of the walls, bringing our attention to him before he kicked down a ladder.

“Come on!” He exclaimed, reaching out a helping hand. “That gatling gun’ll rip you apart if you stay down there!”

A series of bullets suddenly scraped against the wall’s surface, causing Javier to leap back behind cover.

“Mierda!” He cursed, turning to the other gang members. “Will one of you take that thing out already?! Dutch, Eddie, and Arthur, you three just focus on getting up here! We’ll draw their fire away from you!”

Taking a more aggressive approach, Javier and the others began shooting mercilessly at Colm’s reinforcements, all of them specifically aiming at the person manning the gatling gun. Now was our chance.

“Go!” I urged Eddie and Dutch. “I’ll meet you guys at the top!”

“Are you sure?” The pianist asked, clearly not fond of leavin’ me alone.

“Just go!” I repeated. “Don’t worry about me! I’ll be right behind you!”

Seeing no other options, Eddie simply gave me a nod and bolted for the ladder with Dutch while I continued to fire at the O’Driscolls from my position, keepin’ their attention off of the others.

Carefully aiming his shot, Javier managed to take out the bastard behind the gatling as well as some of the people around it before reaching down and helping Dutch and Eddie up.

He brought his focus back to me, instantly returning to the action.

“Now’s your opening, Arthur! Come on!”

Shooting a final number of bullets, I broke into a sprint and ran like hell towards the ladder, just barely dodging the ammo that was being slung at me as I pulled myself up.

I took hold of Javier’s hand after reaching the top and let him haul me onto the wall, all of us now reunited in the same location as I crouched under its thick barrier.

“What do we do now?” I asked. Javier gestured to the wall’s exterior, pointing out the rope that was now danglin’ over the edge.

“There’s too many people at the main gate,” he explained, “so we’re gonna leave this place by climbing back down the walls. Then, we’re getting lost in the woods, and going home.”

I sighed. “Don’t look like we got any other choice.”

“Exactly.”

Noticing that the rest of the members had slid their way down, Javier gave me a pat on the shoulder and beckoned me to follow as he approached the other side.

“C’mon, the others are already finished. Let’s get off this thing and get out of here!”

Grabbing hold of the rope, Javier began rappelling down the wall while I waited for my turn, about ready to just take the quick route and throw myself off. I had more than overstayed my welcome at this fort, and I didn’t wanna remain here a minute longer than needed.

Landing on the grass below, Javier waved at me and called for me to come down.

“Hurry, Arthur! We’re almost out!”

Firmly plantin’ my hands on the wall, I took the rope and prepared to climb over the edge, only to suddenly feel someone’s arms tightening themselves around my neck as they yanked me backwards.

“You ain’t...goin’ nowhere, boy!” 

Hurling my entire body against the other side, Colm himself slammed me into wall’s surface and knocked the wind outta me, causing me to cough forcefully as he cut the rope, preventing any type of escape.

“Arthur!” Dutch exclaimed in panic. “Shit! Hold on! We’ll be right there! The rest of you, follow me! We’ll fight through the main gate!”

Attemptin’ to rise back to my feet, I pushed myself up from the floor and tried to catch my breath, only to receive an agonizing kick to the gut, leading me to go tumbling right off the wall.

I landed on the flimsy roof a shed below and bounced off its edge, plunging straight down into the solid ground as I let out a pained groan.

Colm cackled hoarsely at the sight and joined me on the soaking-wet grass, sauntering arrogantly in my direction.

“If it ain’t the big, bad wolf...” he hissed. “Why is it that every time I see you, you’s always needin’ to be saved? Heh, guess you ain’t as tough as Dutch says!”

Kickin’ me a second time, Colm put a lot more strength behind his attacks and continued to berate me as he repeated the brutal action, jabbing his foot into my torso over and over again with every word.

“You think you can just come in here...” he viciously stomped a boot onto my stomach, “and steal my property? You think...” another kick, “you can just take that boy away from us?! You piece of shit!”

He kicked me a few more times before pausing for a moment, thinkin’ about how else to torment me as he rubbed his chin.

“Y’know, Morgan,” Colm thought aloud, “maybe after I’m finished killin’ you, I’ll go after that lover of yours. Aw, it’d a shame. He looks real young, that Mister Ryan. I’d hate to see him meet an untimely death. But my, my...wouldn’t it be a sight to see your reaction. To see what happens...when the devil himself cries.”

I rolled around the mud in agony and let out a chain of deep, guttural coughs, tryin’ my absolute damnedest to stand back up. I could hardly see a thing with all the dirt, sweat, and rain covering my face, but just as Colm decided to throw a punch at me, I managed to grab his fist in my hand and squeezed it, gritting my teeth angrily at him.

“...That boy...” I growled, “...ain’t your property. He don’t belong...to nobody! And so long as you pose a threat to him...I will take what I want, break what I want, and kill whoever the hell...I...want!”

Grabbin’ a handful of Colm’s collar, I hurled the sleazy man away from me and forced myself to get up from the ground, panting heavily as I held my fists in the air.

My entire body was aching severely, and I could barely walk straight, but I knew if I let Colm defeat me, I’d be dead. I had to go on, and I had to keep my head high. I had to do this for Eddie.

Swinging his hands at me, Colm landed a few, fast hits as I sluggishly tried to block them, admittedly still very dazed from the fall. My ribs felt like they was gonna shatter at any moment, and the more Colm and I threw each other around the thick mud, the more my body threatened to collapse right then and there.

Colm smirked widely at my obvious lack of energy, his yellow-tinted teeth shinin’ in the moonlight.

“I’ve waited so long for this, cowboy!” He taunted. “I was hopin’ to kill Dutch today, but I’ll settle for you. It’ll make him suffer all the more, anyway!”

Lunging at me like a goddamned panther, Colm threw a surprisingly quick series of punches and slammed his knuckles into my jaw, makin’ me stumble against a nearby wall as the fire from the supply wagons continued to grow around us.

By now, there were corpses lyin’ all over the place along with an array of scattered guns, blood puddles, and burn marks staining the ground. It looked more like a battlefield from the Civil War than a gang hideout, only...the battle weren’t done just yet. If I had my way, there’d be one more corpse joining the pile tonight. And it wasn’t gonna be mine.

Regaining some of my strength, I fired back with my own number of attacks and aimed for Colm’s head, bashing a tight fist directly into his cheekbone and another into his ribs.

Before he had a chance to recover though, I hurriedly threw myself onto him and tackled Colm to the ground, keepin’ him pinned down in the mud with my own weight.

Without a second thought, I mindlessly began to slam both of my fists into his face with a barbaric amount of power, practically hammering the man’s skull inward as blood stained my knuckles.

Part of me wanted to stop, but the other part couldn’t. Knowing everything Colm had done to our gang over all these years -- knowing the way he hurt people who were close to me -- it only drove me to go further, and like a feral beast, I continued to ravage his face.

I could hear his nose snappin’ under the brute force, and if I listened closely enough, I coulda sworn I actually heard the man crying. It only proved how much of a coward Colm truly was, and revealed the craven man hiding deep inside.

All of my worst memories with the O’Driscoll flashed inside my head, causin’ me to toughen my punches.

That was, until Dutch’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Arthur!”

Flicking my eyes upward, I suddenly noticed that the entire Van der Linde gang was standin’ not too far away from me, all of their stares nailed onto the broken and bloodied Colm underneath me.

Eddie looked the most surprised out of everyone, and I could tell the boy was shocked at my animosity towards the gang leader...but he didn’t look afraid. If anything, he seemed to understand. Almost like...he was puttin’ himself in my position, and Atticus in Colm’s.

Removing myself from the O’Driscoll, I rose back to my feet while Dutch strolled over to us, revolver in hand, eager to finish the man off as he joined us in the center of the fort.

He stepped right next to Colm’s head, glarin’ down at him like a towering lion. A weak whimper escaped the injured man.

“...D-Dutch...” he sniveled, eyeballing the gun, “...don’t...don’t do this. P-Please...don’t kill me...! I...I don’t wanna die...!”

Dutch remained unwavering, his stone-cold gaze never leaving Colm.

“Plenty of people you’ve killed who didn’t wanna die.”

The O’Driscoll blubbered. “I-I’m...I’m sorry...! Okay? I’m sorry! Don’t...please don’t do this! Ain’t you done enough, Dutch?!”

The other man shook his head regrettably. “No. Not nearly enough.”

Realizing that he wasn’t gonna be able to snake his way outta this one, Colm resorted to insults and began cursing us, his fake sense of bravery overwhelmed by his genuine fear.

“You always was a fool, Dutch...!” He accused. “You kill me, and Atticus is gonna destroy you! You think you actually stand a chance against him? He’s got a small army backin’ him up. And what've you got? Bunch of...yella-bellied cocksuckers who call ‘emselves gunslingers!” Colm pointed at me. “This one’s the biggest one of them all!”

I clenched my fist, trying to hold myself back from pouncing on him again.

Noticing the reanimated tension between Colm and I, Dutch finally decided to put an end to this feud once and for all, and pulled down the hammer on his gun, aiming it directly at the O’Driscoll’s forehead.

He took a deep breath, remindin’ himself to stay calm.

“You killed...my dear Annabelle. You killed Jake Adler, and you almost killed Arthur. ...You’ve killed many people, Colm...but no more. Tonight, you and I are finally putting this feud to rest...by putting you in the grave.”

Colm visibly shuddered at that, his eyes stretching wide open in horror as he realized he was about to meet his maker.

Dutch planted a foot on his chest, holding the man in place.

“Goodbye, Colm,” he said with the least amount of compassion I’d ever heard. “Make sure to tell your brother who sent you.”

The O’Driscoll’s bottom lip quivered in terror, and he opened his mouth to say one last thing, only to be shot to death before he could even get his final breath out.

Dutch and I stood there in complete silence, unable to believe that Colm was finally out of our lives. It felt like a hole had been punched into the world, and not one that could be repaired. It was the type of feelin’ people often received when they took revenge. It was a sense of conclusion, and yet nothing had been concluded.

Glancing around the fort, I observed all the wreckage and ruin we had left in our wake...only to notice that Atticus himself was watchin’ us from a distant window, inside one of the camp’s towers. He didn’t seem like he was planning to make any kind of move. And instead, he simply just stood there, examining us like a hawk in a tree.

Why wasn’t he tryin’ to kill us? I wondered. Why did he just stand by and let Colm get shot? Did he think the man was useless to him now? Or was there something else going on? Some kinda...ulterior motive?

Well, whatever his intentions were, they were allowing us to live for the moment...so I didn’t bother to protest. Not yet, anyway.

All I did right now was follow Dutch as he distanced himself from the gruesome scene and returned to the gang, all of us exhausted and ready to go home. It had been a difficult mission to complete, despite our success, and I was more than eager to get Eddie back to our camp.

I tiredly approached the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder, affectionately rubbing the side of his arm as I urged him to leave this hellhole.

“C’mon,” I said gently. “Let’s get you home.”

Eddie turned to me with an appreciative expression, his green eyes softly returning my gaze. He gave me a quick hug, holding me tightly.

“Thank you, Arthur,” he whispered. “Seriously. Thank you.”

I chuckled, strokin’ his hair. “Don’t thank me just yet. Our camp looks even worse.”

The boy smirked at that and playfully smacked me in the face, walkin’ past me before mounting up.

“I missed you, Arthur. I really did.”

I climbed onto my own horse and rode side-by-side with Eddie, switching to a more sincere tone as the morning sun just began to peek over the horizon, paintin' the world with a bright, red tint.

“Well, whatever happens," I replied, "I promise you...I ain’t ever lettin’ no one take you again.”


	23. A Withered Rose

From Arthur’s POV

SHADY BELLE

DAWN

Rushing into my room with Eddie in tow, I hurried over to the bed as he limped along beside me before gently setting him down, allowin’ the boy to finally find some comfort after these past few days of torment.

Eddie looked exhausted, despite the fact that Rodrick seemed to have gone easy on him. His usual, energetic expression was nowhere to be seen, and instead of the joyful twinkle I normally spotted in his eyes, the pianist’s face sagged with not only fatigue, but also a layer of anxiety.

I let out a worried sigh and slid a soft hand down his cheek, tryin’ to calm the boy down as I took a seat next to him.

...Was I doing the right thing? I wondered. With every attempt I made to protect Eddie, I only seemed to end up dragging him deeper into this mess.

I mean, Jesus-- I never intended for our relationship to turn out like this. From the first day I met Eddie, everything I did was to keep him away from the gang’s activities. I never wanted him to get involved with our world of outlaws and Pinkertons, and I certainly never planned to bring him into the heart of all our problems.

And yet...here he was. Fightin’ for his life in the ass-end of some swamp that had been shot to hell by Atticus’ gang...all because I tried to protect him.

I could lie to myself about it all I wanted, but the truth was: I was puttin’ this boy in danger with every move I made. And sooner or later...I was gonna have to let him go.

But for now, I simply threw those thoughts away and focused on Eddie, keepin’ him company as he slowly fell asleep.

I bent down slightly, bringin’ my face closer to his.

“Try to get some rest, Eddie,” I whispered to him. “You need it.”

Eddie sluggishly forced his eyes open and looked at me with refusal, attempting to bring himself into a sitting position.

“...What, here?” He asked. “But...this is your bed, Arthur. It’s not big enough for the both of us. Where will you sleep--?”

“--Hush,” I cut him off. “It’s yours for now. Just get some shut-eye, alright?”

He fell silent at that and halted his movements for a second, finally relaxing into the bed once he realized he weren’t gonna change my mind...but somethin’ was still off about him.

There was a certain...mood to him that made me suspect he wasn’t quite as alright as he claimed. Every time I glanced at Eddie, he looked like he was about to break into tears, and he kept his eyes in a downcast angle. He looked devoid of all life.

I tilted my head at the pianist and peered at him in a curious manner, checkin’ to see if he was okay as he settled into the thin mattress.

“...Eddie?” I said. “R’you doing alright?”

He frowned out of despondence and brought his forlorn gaze to me, his eyelids low with weariness as a quiet sigh escaped him.

“I...I don’t know,” Eddie lied at first, eventually opening up to me. “...No. No, I’m not.”

I was quiet in response, causin’ the other man to prop himself up on his elbows before he continued to vent.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t mean to act like this. I’m trying my best to stay strong -- just like you said I should -- but...” Eddie let out a breath of defeat, hanging his head low, “...I’m just not built like you, Arthur. I’m not built for the life of an outlaw, no matter how hard I try to be...and I think it’s finally starting to take its toll on me.”

I nodded in understanding, patting a hand on top of his own.

“I figured that was part of it,” I admitted. “You’ve been actin’ differently ever since that bank robbery, after all. Not to mention all the shit that’s happened these past couple o’ days. I think everyone in the gang’s startin’ to grow a bit tired.”

“I suppose I just feel guilty,” Eddie confessed. “I thought robbing those people would be easier. That we’d just...barge in, wave our guns around, and take the money like any gentleman. But the way that bank manager looked at me...it made me feel like a monster. Made me realize it wasn’t right, what we did...”

Eddie sat all the way up, draggin’ a hand down his face as it drooped in sorrow.

“And Hosea...” he carried on, “I’m so sorry about Hosea, Arthur. I know how much you loved him, and I know how much he loved you.”

I glanced away from the boy for a moment, tryin’ to hide how I truly felt.

“Yeah...” I simply said. “I miss that old man. It’s gonna be strange livin’ in a world without him, considering he was in mine for over twenty years. Thankfully, Dutch managed to get him buried somewhere. Somewhere he can rest.”

“That’s good,” Eddie replied. “It’s what he deserves. I mean, I didn’t know him for nearly as long as you did, but Hosea treated me almost like a son in the short time we knew each other. I imagine he did the same to you.”

I agreed. “He sure did.”

“Well...if it’s any consolation, I also know what it feels like to lose a father.”

A thought popped up in my mind at that, causing me to change the subject.

“What was your daddy like, anyway?” I questioned. “I know you said he was involved in crime, but you haven’t really said much else about your family. Not that I blame you. I’ve just been curious.”

The pianist sifted through his memories for a second, thinking about what to say.

“My father...he was--” Eddie hesitated, unsure of how to describe him. I guessed his daddy must’ve been quite the complicated man.

“...His name was Jonathan,” the boy finally settled with. “He had his flaws, but I still loved him. And I know he loved me. Some people described him as cold, or emotionless, but he showed compassion in his own, distant kind of way. The man rarely ever smiled, but others always seemed to be smiling around him. ...He kind of reminds me of you.”

I chuckled. “You think I’m cold and emotionless, d’you?”

Eddie cracked a smile. “Most of the time. But it only makes your caring side stand out all the more.”

The pianist went back to the topic of his family, tellin’ me about the other members as his voice softened with a reminiscent tone.

“As for my mother, her name was Ethel. She had...quite the spirit in her. She wasn’t exactly as gentle and delicate as the other women in our neighborhood, but I liked her that way. She was boisterous, yet composed. Comical, yet serious. Harsh, yet loving. She’d often spend her time knitting in the living room, and the rest chasing me and my sister around with the needles when we were being disobedient. Though, it was usually me.”

I chortled at the image. “Sounds like Miss Grimshaw in a way. And, ah...what ‘bout your sister?”

“Her name was Alice,” Eddie answered, his tone slightly morose now. “She was...very quiet. Almost alarmingly so. She always kept to herself, and didn’t really have any friends, but not because she couldn’t make any. Just because she seemed content with being alone. Both my parents often protested her self-induced isolation and tried to get her out of the house, but Alice would simply spend her days reading book after book. She’d also listen to me play the piano as she did so.”

Eddie’s voice faltered at the painful memory and his expression steadily began to sink, makin’ me blurt out a hasty apology once I noticed what my big mouth had done this time.

“Aw, shit...” I murmured. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I...I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s alright,” he reassured. “I just...I miss them so much. And I regret not being able to save them from Atticus. None of them deserved to die the way they did, and there’s also the fact that seeing the man again has brought back some...horrible memories. But I’ll be fine.”

A question suddenly posed itself in my thoughts, leadin’ me to grow even more curious about Eddie’s past.

“Why does Atticus even wanna kill you so bad, anyway?” I asked. “I mean, I know he didn’t really get along with your father, but...all this effort just to kill one man? And for so long? It seems like a waste of time to me. Why is he so obsessed with huntin’ you down?”

Eddie quirked a brow. “Didn’t I tell you? About Nathaniel?”

I shook my head, findin’ myself in an even deeper state of confusion. “No. Who’s Nathaniel?”

A blanket of realization covered the boy’s face at the answer and he turned away from me, thinkin’ about how to explain the whole story as I waited for a response.

...Just what the hell was going on?

“...I’m sorry, Arthur,” he started off. “I thought I already told you, but...I guess it just slipped my mind.” Eddie let out a short sigh. “Nathaniel was the name of Atticus’ son.”

I perked my head up in interest. “Atticus has a son?”

“Had,” Eddie corrected. “Nathaniel was killed a long time ago. He was a few years younger than you when he died, and an outlaw just like his father.” The boy switched to a more sullen temperament. “...He was also my first lover.”

My eyes widened with shock. “You were in love with...Atticus’ son?”

The other man nodded, evidently not proud to admit it.

“This was before Atticus betrayed my family,” Eddie clarified. “We never knew things would turn out like this. In fact, Nathaniel always did everything he could to keep me away from his father’s world of crime. He never introduced me to the other members in the gang unless they approached us first, he never talked about the jobs they did -- he pretty much pretended they didn’t even exist. Nathaniel just wanted to keep things normal...and for a time, they almost were.”

I urged him to go on. “...But?”

The pianist got to the point. “But...then Atticus decided to wipe out my entire family. He sent Thatcher as the assassin to finish us off -- and for the most part, he did -- but when the man reached me, Nathaniel stood in his way. He disagreed with his father’s actions and tried to protect me, but in doing so, had to go against his own gang.”

A pang of realization hit me.

“...So that’s what Thatcher meant...”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “What?”

“Before I killed Thatcher,” I recalled, “he told me I wasn’t the first one to ‘throw my life away for you.’ It just never really clicked until now. I guess he was referring to Nathaniel.”

The boy thought back on the incident. “Well, unlike you...Nathaniel didn’t survive. Middleton was forced to kill him in the end, and by the time he dropped dead, I was already long gone. ...That’s why Atticus hates me so much. He blames me for the death of his son, and will do anything he can to take revenge.”

I rested my elbows on my knees. “Surely, a man like Atticus would know revenge is pointless?”

Eddie shrugged. “Perhaps, but I don’t think he cares anymore. Whatever concern he had for his gang’s safety died with Nathaniel. He fears nothing because he has nothing.”

Breaking out of his thoughts, the pianist suddenly put his hand on top of mine and used the other to caress my face as he scooted closer to me, lookin’ me in the eye.

“Listen, Arthur,” he said, “whatever happens, I promise I’ll never run out on you like I did with Nathaniel. I know you’re always telling me that there might come a time when I’ll have to save myself, but...I don’t think I could. I don’t think I could just leave you behind like that. Not after all this time.”

I leaned closer to him and removed his hand from my cheek, holdin’ it in my own.

“Now, don’t you worry about that,” I comforted. “Dutch has a plan. We’re gonna pack up this camp, and we are gonna get the hell outta Shady Belle. You’re gonna be safe.”

Eddie disregarded that, sighing in disapproval. “I don’t care about being safe anymore. We’re outlaws, for God’s sake. We’re never going to be safe. The only thing I care about right now is you, Arthur.” He glanced away for a moment, bashfully averting his eyes. “...I love you.”

My entire body froze at that and I simply gazed back at the boy in bewilderment, feelin’ more touched than I would’ve liked to admit.

It had been ages since someone last said that to me, and part of me couldn’t believe it was real. All these years of fightin’ people and being betrayed by them, making new enemies with each passing day...it was hard to see myself finally having someone who was not only a friend, but also a lover.

I snapped outta my trance-like state and brought my attention back to Eddie, tightenin’ my grip around his hand in an affectionate manner as a gentle chuckle escaped me.

“Boy, you really are a fool, ain’t you?” I teased. “Well, if it makes you feel any better...I love you, too.”

Eddie beamed brightly at that and the joy returned to his face as he happily planted a kiss on my lips before embracing me, practically meltin’ against my chest once the fatigue finally started to catch up to him.

Holding the pianist close, I let him lay his head on my shoulder and tried to make him forget his worries, calming him down as he slowly fell asleep.

It felt like it had been an eternity since I last spent any time with the boy, and now that he was finally back with the gang, I intended on keepin’ it that way. I didn’t give a damn if Atticus blamed him for Nathaniel’s death, or blamed him for any of the other problems he had in life -- I was gonna keep Eddie safe no matter how much it cost me. And Atticus was dead wrong if he thought otherwise.

I mean, with everything else fallin’ apart around me, Eddie was the only thing I had left that I could truly protect. Dutch rarely ever listened to me anymore, Micah was already beginning to replace Hosea, and the rest of the gang was fightin’ itself with fears and doubts. It was like witnessing a train-wreck before it even happened, and I’d be damned if I let Eddie get caught in the middle of it.

Interruptin’ my train of thought, a knock emitted from the bedroom door as Dutch’s guttural voice came through, grabbing my attention.

“Arthur, you in there? I need to speak with you.”

“I’ll be out in a minute, Dutch.” I replied.

“Alright,” he said, his footsteps slightly faltering as he wandered away from the door. “Meet me on the balcony. It’s important.”

Softly pushing Eddie off my chest, I placed the exhausted boy down on the mattress and slipped my coat off, layin’ it over him like a blanket as the cool breeze drifted in through the broken windows.

“Go on and get some sleep.” I whispered, earning a series of incoherent mumblings from him in return.

I let out a quiet laugh, switchin’ off the lantern on my desk as I headed out the room.

“G’night, Eddie. It’s good to have you back.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

Strollin’ through the doors leading to the balcony, I found Dutch casually leaning against the railing with his back turned to me as he silently enjoyed a cigar, taking in the gloomy view.

There was something different about the old man. He seemed content in an odd way and didn’t appear as agitated as I expected, but the air about him still felt...wrong, despite the solace.

I mean, the O’Driscolls was finished. We had just gotten back from killin’ their leader, and now, Dutch’s lifelong nemesis was suddenly absent. I supposed his focus had probably moved onto Atticus by now, but considering how he handled Colm, part of me didn’t even wanna know his plans for the future.

They might’ve been a success individually, but with every plan I carried out for Dutch, the deeper I found myself stuck in this shit. It was like adding even more weight to an anchor strapped around the gang’s feet, and Dutch wasn’t doin’ anything to keep us from drowning.

I calmly walked up to the man, leaning my body against a nearby pillar as his eyes flicked in my direction, leadin’ him to greet me.

“So...” Dutch said, shaking some ash off his cigar, “Colm O’Driscoll is finally dead.”

I adjusted myself, resting a hand on the buckle of my belt. “Yep. He sure is. You feel any better?”

“Oh, yes,” he admitted darkly. “Much...better. I know you don’t think much of payback, Arthur, but I assure you, this was well-deserved. Colm is finally where he belongs. In the ground.”

“And what ‘bout you?” I pointed out. “You on the top now?”

Dutch picked up on my irritated tone and turned to face me, his brow furrowed in frustration as he let out a breath of smoke.

“I am gettin’ tired of all these doubts, son,” he confessed. “What happened to your faith? Ever since Blackwater, it’s been shaken. You’ve turned into a different man. Before, you was more than willing to gun down any O’Driscolls in our path, and now you’re disappointed in me for killing their leader? I did our gang a favor, Arthur. I saved lives. I saved Eddie.”

I was unconvinced. “Atticus saw us, Dutch. He was at the fort. He knows we’re the ones who killed Colm, and if I’ve learned anything about how that man’s mind works, he’s gonna retaliate. People are gonna suffer ‘cause of what we did.”

“Yes,” Dutch acknowledged, albeit sarcastically, “that tends to happen when you’re an outlaw. But like I said before, I have a plan. We’re gonna move the gang up north to Roanoke Ridge before Atticus even has a chance to do anything, and disappear.”

“North?” I questioned. “What we gonna find up there? As far as I know, only towns in the north are Annesburg and Van Horn. Ain’t nothin’ to rob in those places, Dutch.”

He nodded. “Which is why we are gonna take one last score in Saint Denis before we leave.”

I paused. “Wait, what? What else is there to take?”

Dutch reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded letter, swiftly handin’ it to me as he explained its contents.

“I received a letter from Trelawny. He said he’s stayin’ in Saint Denis right now. Might’ve overheard a tip that could help us out.”

Scanning the message, I quietly muttered the words out to myself as my eyes scrolled down the page.

“...a high-stakes Poker game on a riverboat...” I jolted my head up. “You sure about this, Dutch? I don’t doubt that there’ll be lots of money, but do we even have the time to plan for something like this? We’re already livin’ on borrowed time as is. We need to move.”

“You said it yourself,” he countered. “Ain’t nothing valuable in Annesburg or Van Horn. If we don’t wanna show up there empty-handed, we’ve got to take this opportunity while we have the chance. We got no choice. Trust me on this, Arthur. It’s worth it. And besides, if there’s anyone in the gang who can play Poker and blend in with high society at the same time, it’s Eddie. This is perfect for him.”

I sighed in defeat, finally giving in to Dutch’s plan.

“...Alright. What d’you need me to do?”

Dutch took a step towards me, gesturing inside the manor with his cigar.

“Take Eddie, go to Saint Denis tomorrow, and meet with Trelawny. Talk with him. Stay the night if you have to. Just get as much info as you can about this riverboat party. We’ll hit it the moment we’re ready, and then leave this place as soon as we have the money.”

Folding the letter, I shoved it into my satchel and complied, reluctantly goin’ along with this idea.

“If you think that’s what’s best.”

The other man seemed satisfied. “I do, son. I do. And so will you. You just need to have faith. After all...” Dutch took one last drag on his cigar and put it out, sauntering back inside as the sun climbed the sky, “...what else have we got?”


	24. Just One Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is slightly nsfw!

From Arthur’s POV

THE NEXT DAY

SAINT DENIS

Ridin’ through the city’s crowded streets, Eddie and I trotted our way to the tailor’s shop -- the location where Trelawny said he’d meet us -- and strolled past a bunch of lawmen, beggars, merchants, and even the same lady who was advocating for women’s right to vote all those months ago. It didn’t look like Saint Denis had changed that much, and most of the people appeared to be the same...but it was certainly still a foreign sight for me and Eddie.

I mean, if I was bein’ honest, I never thought we’d come back here. Not after the way we hit the goddamned national bank, and blew up one of the bridges leadin’ into the city. In my eyes, Saint Denis was supposed to be off-limits, considering how many people was after our gang, but clearly, Dutch didn’t agree.

All he seemed to care about recently was the money, risks be damned. We had already lost Hosea to Atticus and his army of crazies, and now, we was riskin’ even more of our necks for some high-stakes Poker game on a goddamned boat.

Had we learned nothing from that disaster in Blackwater? Had Dutch suddenly forgotten what happened back there? The last time we tried to rob a boat, our entire gang nearly got wiped out. Only difference was back then, all we had to worry about was the Pinkertons. Now though, we also had a rival gang threatening to destroy us, and even fewer men to fight them back.

We was in the middle of a storm. If we wanted to survive, we’d have to leave this place as soon as possible. We had far too much to lose, and even less to gain. S’far as I was concerned, the money on this boat weren’t worth the risk. ...But what could I do?

Tearin’ me away from my thoughts, Eddie suddenly grabbed my attention when he said something to me, his gaze stuck on a very familiar building that we were riding by. It had colorful posters plastered all over its walls, vibrant spherical lights decorating the roof, music dancin’ through its doors, and a decent-sized crowd of people gathering at its entrance. It was the Râleur Theatre.

We both stopped for a moment, sayin’ a quick hello to an old friend.

“...The Râleur,” Eddie murmured to himself in a nostalgic tone, clearly feelin’ a bit homesick upon seeing it. “I never expected to see it again.”

I moved my horse next to his, takin’ in the view of the theater as hundreds of memories began to flood my mind.

“Me neither,” I admitted, thinking back to the day I first met Eddie. “I imagine you must miss it a whole lot. And the folks that work there.”

The boy nodded. “Oh, you’ve no idea. Though, it’s strange to say that, considering how it used to be such a nerve-wracking experience for me. I was always afraid that I’d mess up a song, or hit a wrong note, or disappoint the audience with something I composed...but I never realized how lucky I was to have those fears until now. And how lucky I am to have new ones.”

I rested my arms on the horn of my saddle, tiltin’ my head at Eddie.

“You think you’re lucky?”

He shrugged. “There’ve been multiple occasions where I could’ve died, Arthur. Where we both could’ve died. But against all odds, we’re still here. We’re still going. I’d say that’s pretty lucky.”

A soft smile spread across my face. “I s’pose you’re right.”

Eddie shifted to a more anxious tone. “Though...I can’t deny I’m a bit worried about Dutch’s plans recently. Shouldn’t we be packing up camp? Why are we still in Shady Belle? I thought we were moving the gang up north.”

A defeated sigh escaped me. “That’s what I thought too, but evidently, Dutch ain’t ready to leave just yet. Wants to grab one more score before we get moving.”

That didn’t appear to calm the pianist down at all. “We need to get out of here, Arthur. I know we’re low on money, but Atticus is dangerously close to killing us all. And I don’t want anyone else to end up like Hosea. Especially not you.”

I gave him a sincere look. “I hear you, Eddie, and truth be told, most o’ the gang feels the same way. But like I said, so long as Dutch has his mind set on robbin’ this boat, I don’t see us leaving anytime sooner than expected. We’ll just have to survive.”

Eddie let the subject go for now. “I understand. I just hope we can make it out of this. We’ve had enough close calls as is.” The boy lightly snapped his reins and pushed his horse into a casual trot, continuin’ our trip.

“Anyways,” he said, “I’ve held us up for long enough. We should go and see, erm-- what did you say his name was again?”

“Trelawny.” I answered.

“Trelawny...” Eddie repeated to himself, “he’s part of Dutch’s gang?”

I chuckled at that. “Well, that depends on who you ask. He’s not really part of the gang like we are, but...I guess...he ain’t exactly against it neither. Sometimes, Trelawny’ll stay with us for a while, hang around camp...but then suddenly, he’ll disappear for months on end. And just when we start thinkin’ about cutting him loose, the bastard shows up again with a tip valuable enough to earn us hundreds of dollars. Kinda like now.”

“And you think we can trust this tip?” He asked.

“Trelawny’s always come through before,” I replied. “We’ve got no reason not to trust him.”

Eddie seemed content with that. “That works for me. I just want to get this robbery over with and bring the gang someplace safe. I feel like I’m constantly checking over my shoulder to make sure Atticus or Rodrick isn’t there.”

I laughed, tryin’ to ease his worries a little. “You’re assumin’ I’d let them get that close.”

The boy smirked in response, adjusting his hat. “After everything that’s happened, I’m sure you wouldn’t. ...And neither would I.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE TAILOR

Strollin’ towards the opulent shop, Eddie and I hitched our horses before approaching the front doors, attemptin’ to look as casual as possible in order to avoid grabbing anyone’s attention. The people of Saint Denis were already on high alert ever since the bank robbery, and with the amount of lawmen patrolling this city, the last thing I wanted was for anyone to recognize us. We’d have to keep a low profile.

Stepping up to the tailor’s, the two of us came to a halt once we noticed an elegant man leaning against one of its corners, his face hidden behind a newspaper. There wasn’t anyone else accompanying him, and judgin’ by the not-so-subtle top hat peeking above the paper’s edge, I had a good guess as to who it was.

I double-checked our surroundings to make sure there wasn’t any unwanted ears listenin’ in and walked towards the man, quietly calling out to him.

“Trelawny.” I whispered, causing him to instantly lower the newspaper. 

He gave me a delighted smile and folded the article, doin’ his best to pretend that there weren’t anything suspicious going on.

“Arthur!” Trelawny said happily. “My, my...hasn’t it been quite some time. It’s good to see you, dear boy.”

“And you, Josiah.”

The magician flicked his gaze over to Eddie. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Eddie Ryan,” I introduced, gesturing towards him. “He’s a new member of the gang. Joined not too long ago. Eddie, this is Josiah.”

The pianist reached a hand out, but I could tell he was still a bit skeptical about this new face.

“Good to meet you.” Eddie greeted. A radiant smile beamed on Trelawny’s face.

“Ah, a fellow Englishman. Don’t see too many of those around here, nor in the gang. I can see Dutch is...broadening his horizons.”

I scoffed. “Well, he’s tryin’ to, at least. But Dutch ain’t going nowhere until the gang gets some more money. And he tells me you might have a tip for our next score.”

Josiah nodded. “Yes, indeed...”

I quirked a brow, noticin’ his doubtful tone. “You don’t sound too sure.”

The magician’s expression drooped with uncertainty, and he lowered his voice so that it was just above a whisper.

“...I won’t lie to you, Arthur. This robbery is going to be tricky to pull off. Mainly because guests are not permitted to have weapons on this riverboat. Now, of course, we could disguise some of you gentlemen as security guards so you wouldn’t be entirely defenseless. But as far as having a weapon on your person...I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

I shrugged in a puzzled manner. “How the hell are we supposed rob the money without weapons?”

Trelawny held up a finger. “Discretion, dear boy. You are going to participate in the Poker game and win. Now, don’t worry -- you’ll have, err...‘assistance’ to ensure your victory.”

I got straight to the point. “You want me to cheat.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite as bluntly as that, but yes! You’re going to cheat. Though, I would still make sure that whoever is going to play the games actually looks affluent. That way, your ‘luck’ doesn’t seem too suspicious to the other players.”

An idea popped up in my mind.

“Eddie,” I suggested, “why don’t you play?”

The boy appeared surprised at the thought. “Me?”

“Yeah. You got some skill in Poker, and besides, outta all the people in the gang, you look the most civilized among us. No one would suspect you to be a crook. You don’t have to do it, o’ course. I’m just saying.”

He went along with the plan. “No, I’m up for it, but who’s going to be giving me the ‘assistance?”

“How about Herr Strauss?” Josiah recommended. “I know these sort of things are usually right up his alley. Or perhaps even Hosea. That man is a conman at heart. This would be perfect for him.”

I froze with realization, suddenly rememberin’ that Trelawny hadn’t heard about his death. To me, it felt like it had been ages since Hosea died, but the reality was...it had only been a few days. All this mayhem, all this death...it barely spanned across an entire week. We were given almost no time to mourn Hosea after he was killed, let alone write a letter to Trelawny about it. I supposed it only made sense he didn’t know yet. I was just surprised Dutch hadn’t told him.

Letting out a morose sigh, I tried to think of the quickest and least painful way to break the news to him, causing Josiah to pause in confusion once he noticed my sudden change in mood.

Eddie and I exchanged looks, the both of us unsure of how to get it out in the open.

“Trelawny,” I murmured, “...Hosea’s dead.”

The magician blinked out of shock, his usual facade of charm and charisma breaking for just a moment upon hearin’ the horrible news.

“...D-Dead?” He repeated. “What on earth happened?”

I mindlessly brought my eyes to the ground, not exactly eager to discuss the topic.

“Trouble with a rival gang,” I hurriedly explained. “Hosea was killed in an ambush.”

Trelawny’s face sank with a gentle frown.

“Well...I’m terribly sorry to hear that, Arthur. Mister Matthews was always one of the good ones. Sometimes, he was even the best. It’s a shame he’s gone.”

I agreed with a simple nod. “Sure is.”

Clearin’ my throat, I attempted to regain composure and changed the subject, hastily getting back to business. “...Anyway, ah...what else can you tell us about this riverboat party? When is it? What can we expect?”

Josiah retrieved the newspaper he was reading earlier and handed it to me, pointing to a certain article.

“About the same as you’d expect from any high-society gala. There’ll be crowds of rich folk who couldn’t be more pleased with themselves, a bar, musicians, safes full of money and jewelry, the Poker tables of course...and lots of security. As for when it’s taking place, I believe the party is being held in four days from now. It’s not an abundant amount of time to plan, but it should give you boys long enough to think of something. Which brings me to the building behind us.”

I glanced up from the paper and brought my gaze to the tailor’s shop, givin’ Trelawny a curious look.

“You tellin’ me we met at the tailor’s for a reason?”

The magician laughed. “Well, I didn’t bring you here to admire the dresses, dear boy! No...we need to get you a suit, and perhaps a shave as well. After all, if you want to blend in with the fine folk on the riverboat, you’re going to have to look the part. And -- I mean no offense to your current attire -- but nobody is going to believe you’re filthy rich when you’re just filthy.”

I heavily sighed in annoyance, shovin’ the newspaper into my satchel as my expression flattened with irritation.

“...Fine. Before we go in, though,” I turned to Eddie and placed a few dollars in his hand, givin’ him a different task as I pointed in the opposite direction. “Eddie, why don’t you go and rent us a room at the Bastille? Ain’t no point in goin’ back to camp this early. Besides, maybe you can get yourself some real food there.”

The pianist stared downwards at his palm. “You sure?”

“Yes,” I answered firmly. “Besides, I’d rather you not be present when I’m tryin’ on skin-tight suits. You’ve seen enough horrors lately.”

Eddie chuckled at that and took the money, steadily walkin’ back to Bullet who was now getting a bit restless at the hitching post.

“If you insist,” he complied with a giggle. “Alright then, I’ll meet you at the saloon. Good luck, gentlemen.”

Trelawny waved him goodbye. “And good luck to you, young man.” Josiah turned back to me, gesturing inside the tailor’s with a polite bow. “Well then, Arthur...shall we?”

I walked ahead of him, lettin’ myself into the shop while Eddie mounted up.

“Sure.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THAT EVENING

THE BASTILLE

Leavin’ my horse next to Eddie’s, I hopped off the animal and pushed my way through the swinging doors, allowing myself into the saloon as everyone inside instantly jolted their heads towards me, wonderin’ what the hell this cowboy was doing back in Saint Denis.

I mean, I doubted anyone here really remembered me -- apart from the bartender who was wavin’ me over like an old friend -- but I imagined it was also hard to forget someone of my “background” hanging around this lavish establishment. After all, the last time I was here, it was to gather information on that godforsaken gala where Eddie and I nearly got shot. There weren’t no honest people in this saloon, and unlike the rest of the patrons relaxin’ in this here bar, I certainly wasn’t being subtle about it in the slightest.

I just hoped the boy and I would be able to get at least one moment of peace today. Things had been so chaotic back at camp recently, part of me couldn’t deny that I only agreed to be Dutch’s errand boy so I could get away from all that. It was selfish, yeah...but I just needed a goddamned break. And so did Eddie.

Sauntering over to the bar while the other customers went back to their business, I simply slid a coin onto the counter and leaned against its surface, causin’ the bartender’s eyes to pop open in shock once he recognized my sour face.

“Well, well...look who it is!” He greeted, taking the coin into his palm. “Long time, no see, mister! How ya been?”

I chuckled in a friendly tone. “It has been a long time, ain’t it? I’m doin’ well, I suppose. Y’know, considering the circumstances.”

He nodded in understanding, giving me a beer. “Mm-hmm, things is gettin’ rough out there, for sure. I’m just glad to see you alright.” The bartender’s expression lit up with remembrance. “Hey, your friend was down here not too long ago. Mister Ryan. I gotta say: as surprised as I am to see you, I was even more surprised to see him. I thought he was dead!”

I took a sip. “Dead?”

“Well, he just sorta disappeared after that horrific firefight at Miss Powell’s place. And there’s also the fact that the folks at the Râleur miss him a whole bunch. So, I just kinda assumed, y’know?”

I stared down the mouth of the bottle, mindlessly thinkin’ back to all the shit Eddie and I had been through these past months.

“Yeah...” I said, “things’ve gotten crazy for us lately. Eddie, especially. I’ve just been...helpin’ him along, I guess.”

The bartender wiped a rag along the counter, cleanin’ it as he spoke. “Well, that’s certainly nice of you, mister. Obviously, I dunno Mister Ryan as well as you do, but based on what I’ve seen and heard of him, he seems like a good man. One of the few left in this city.”

I brought the bottle to my lips, downing another sip. “One o’ the few left in the world.”

He smiled at that. “Indeed.”

Halting his movements, the bartender paused for a moment and took on a more concerned tone, his chipper mood slightly dyin’ down as he glanced upstairs.

“You, ah...you make sure to keep an eye on that boy, alright? Things is already uncomfortably quiet in this saloon now that Lillian’s gone, and I’d never thought I’d say this, but...I kinda miss when she’d come here and complain to the rest of us. She was a troubled woman, for sure, but she made this place memorable in a strange way. Watchin’ another familiar face disappear might just...do me in.”

I finished my drink and placed the bottle down, gettin’ ready to go find Eddie. “Believe me, I’m doing everything I can. Speakin’ of which, you know where Mister Ryan is? He said he’d meet me here.”

The bartender gestured above us. “He rented a room here for the night. Room 201. I believe he’s in the bath right now.”

I backed away from the bar, nonchalantly beginning to head upstairs. “Thanks. I’m gonna go and wait for him.”

“You take care of each other, sir,” the man replied. “Ain’t nowhere safe out there nowadays. Sometimes, a friend is more useful than a gun.”

I agreed. “That they are.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

ROOM 201

Shovin’ my new suit into the temporary wardrobe, I slipped off my shirt and searched for a more casual one to wear while Eddie finished up his bath, the both of us eager to sleep under an actual roof for once.

The manor back at Shady Belle did its job well enough, and I didn’t find myself wakin’ up with as nearly mosquito bites as I did back in Clemens Point, but still. It was nice not havin’ to sleep around a bunch of gators or worry about being jumped by Atticus and his group of maniacs. Instead, I could probably actually get some real sleep tonight, and eat some food before inevitably returning to camp to carry out this insane robbery.

I mean, sure, the plan sounded simple enough. We’d stuff ourselves into some disguises, pretend to be all posh and whatnot, and cheat at the Poker games while simultaneously winning hundreds of dollars. It was child’s play compared to the other robberies we’d done.

But...what if something went awry? What if someone recognized us or found out who we were? What if the law was alerted before we got the money? We’d be trapped on a boat floatin’ in the middle of goddamned nowhere, and on top of that, most of us would be unarmed. I just didn’t think it was worth risking the gang’s safety like this no matter how much cash was sitting in those people’s pockets.

There’d be plenty of time for larceny later. But we'd already pushed our luck far enough. We had to leave Shady Belle. And now.

“Oh!” Eddie’s voice suddenly exclaimed from behind me, makin’ me realize I weren’t alone no more. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were here.”

Whirling around at the unexpected intrusion, I separated myself from the wardrobe and spotted a hilariously red-faced Eddie standing in the doorway as he tried to avert his eyes, clearly a bit embarrassed due to seein’ me shirtless.

“It’s alright,” I reassured with a chortle. “Come on in.”

Slowly walking into the room, the pianist shut the door behind him and awkwardly shuffled towards the bed, having a seat with his back turned to me while I continued to get dressed. I couldn’t lie -- it was amusin’ to see him in such a bashful state. Normally he was pretty well-composed, but...I guessed everyone had their weaknesses. I’d have to walk around without a shirt more often.

“...So,” Eddie said, sounding a bit more relaxed, “did you get a new suit?”

“Yep.” I answered, earnin’ an inquisitive look from him. I rolled my eyes in a playful manner. “Don’t worry...you’ll get to see it in all its glory on the riverboat. Then you can laugh and holler all you want.”

The boy chuckled. “You don’t look as bad in a suit as you think, Arthur. In fact, I’d say you look quite handsome.”

A small but surprisingly flattered smile grew on my face. “Well then, maybe there’s hope for me, after all. But what ‘bout you? Heard you got a nice bath.”

Eddie dragged a hand through his still-wet hair, tidying up the strands. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it until I actually got into the tub. I don’t know how you people do it, traveling in the wilderness for months. I’ve not even been away from civilization for that long and I’m already struggling.”

I grinned at him. “You’ll get used to it. Though, I will admit, it is nice to enjoy these luxuries every once in a while. Gives you a chance to relax.”

He nodded. “That it does.”

Sitting in silence for a few minutes after that, Eddie eventually rose to his feet and wandered next to me, his green eyes admirin’ the view outside our window as the sun began to sink under a purple sky. Despite the chaos we was dealing with right now -- what with fighting Atticus and killin’ Colm -- Eddie still appeared to be somewhat at peace, now that we were back in his hometown.

For the first time in a while...the boy actually looked happy, and the familiar spark I always saw in his expression had finally returned. It made me glad to see him smilin’ again, and part of me wished we would never have to leave this hotel room. ...But I knew better than to dream like that.

Turning to me with a loving glance, Eddie quietly cleared his throat and gazed at the floor, the red tint coming back to his face once again.

“Erm, Arthur...?” He nearly whispered.

I raised a brow at him, curious about the hesitance in his voice. “Yeah?”

The boy began fidgeting with his hands. “...This is...awkward for me to ask, but I was thinking...well, we never truly know how much time we have left with each other, do we?”

The sudden change in tone caught me off-guard and I put all my attention on Eddie, tryin’ to figure out where on earth this was coming from.

“...No,” I admitted somberly. “No, I...guess we don’t.”

The pianist grew even more red. “W-Which is why I was wondering if...perhaps, you’d like to...spend the night with me? I mean, we’re out here by ourselves, and...I-I don’t really know when we’ll get the chance again. The gang’s always moving, and--”

I cut the boy off and grabbed his hand, calmin’ him down.

“Relax, Eddie,” I comforted, chuckling softly. “I’d...I’d like that.”

He looked up at me with surprise. “You would?”

I wrapped my other arm around Eddie and brought him close. “O’ course. Like you said, we might never get another chance. We’re...always runnin’ for our lives, it feels like. Always fighting. Never at peace. Least we can do is reserve one day just for us.”

Seemingly devoid of all his previous self-doubt, the other man took what I said to heart and simply stood there for a moment before suddenly leanin’ forward and pressing his lips against mine, holding onto me as if I would vanish if he let go.

There was a certain passion behind Eddie’s actions -- one I’d never experienced from him before -- and...it made feel...alive. I mean, I wasn’t the best when it came to findin’ the right words, and truth be told: I rarely ever knew how to describe what was going through my mind...but this was different.

Most of the time, I found myself constantly feelin’ as if I was dead already. Day and night, week after week...I always felt more and more like a walking husk. Just a hollow shell about to crack at any moment and unveil the broken man hidin’ inside. There was hardly anything about me that was worth redeeming, and even with Dutch’s plans basically controlling my life, I still had no idea where this road was going.

There always seemed to be some sort of obstacle blockin’ our path, or another tragedy that would cause Dutch’s sanity to deteriorate even further, but with Eddie by my side now, somethin’ just felt like...it had changed.

Like even with the high chance that our gang would most-likely be wiped out before we could reach New York, or Tahiti, or wherever else Dutch had in his sights, that I still had something left to save. That even if everything else went to shit, I could still give Eddie the life he deserved. And God-willing, join him in it.

It was a foolish dream -- and one I doubted I’d ever actually make a reality -- but it was enough to keep me going. The idea alone of possibly makin’ it through this hell on Earth and somehow managing to survive was enough to convince me that it weren’t time to drop dead just yet. Even if it meant I’d end up havin’ to sacrifice everything I had, or abandon the only life I ever knew, I was ready to protect the one person that was keepin’ me alive.

‘Cause I knew I was also the only thing keeping him alive.

Returning Eddie’s affection, I tightened my arms around the pianist and slightly lifted him off the floor before setting him down on the bed, swiftly undoing his shirt as he sank into the mattress below.

Eddie allowed his hands to roam up my back and caressed every muscle he came across, softly pressing his fingers into my skin like a sculptor shaping his project. By now, his face was flushed pink all over again and I could almost feel the warmth radiating off him, but this time, he didn’t seem to care. Instead, the boy only appeared to be lost in bliss, and the further we let ourselves go, the more eager he became.

Yanking his shirt off, I tossed the piece of clothing to the side and exposed his bare chest...only to be met with a sight I wasn’t expecting.

Contrary to the smooth, unscathed complexion I anticipated Eddie to have, I saw a horrifying mess of fresh scars and burns crisscrossin’ each other on his torso, completely taking me by surprise as my jaw dropped in shock.

I hovered a gentle hand above the damaged flesh, unsure of how to react.

“...What...the hell happened to you?” I blurted out, examining the mostly healed wounds. “Did...did Rodrick do this to you?”

Eddie frowned out of guilt and looked away from me, evidently ashamed of the lacerations on his chest.

“...I didn’t want to alarm you,” he explained. “Reverend Swanson patched me up whilst you were still sleeping. I...I asked him not to tell you. ...I’m sorry, Arthur.”

Turnin’ away for a second, I took a deep breath and shook my head in anger, thinking about all the different ways I was gonna murder Rodrick if I ever saw him again.

“...That son-of-a-bitch...” I muttered. “I’ll kill that goddamn maniac--”

“--Arthur,” Eddie hushed, placing a soothing hand on my cheek. “It’s okay. We’ll worry about him later. We’ve got plenty of time to think about Atticus and his gang. For now, though...”

A frisky smirk grew on his lips and I suddenly felt his other hand tuggin’ at the hem of my pants, leadin’ me to let out an amused chuckle once I calmed down.

“You’re right...” I replied, “you’re right. I’m just sorry I couldn’t prevent that from happenin’ to you. I--”

Eddie put a single finger over my mouth, grinning in a fond manner.

“No, no,” he scolded playfully. “None of that. No apologies, no worrying about me, no nothing. Okay? Tomorrow, I promise I’ll let you go back to being an angry, cold-hearted brute. But tonight, you actually enjoy yourself for once, and just take a breather. Alright?”

I beamed at him and threw all my worries about Dutch or Atticus out the window, bendin’ down to place a series of kisses on Eddie’s neck as the night carried on.

A soft laugh escaped me. “As you wish.”


	25. To Kill a Killer

From Arthur’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

Sliding the pencil across the paper, I drew a simple sketch of Eddie while he continued to sleep, his entire body submerged under the thick layers of blankets as he got some well-deserved rest. The boy looked perfectly content at the moment and didn’t have a single hint of worry clouding his expression. Instead, he simply drifted away in whatever dream was floatin’ around his head at the moment and held onto the pillow as if it was another person, squishin’ his face into the cushion. 

I chuckled softly at the sight and added some details to his portrait, tryin’ to make it more than just a mess of scrawls and doodles like I normally did.

It had been a long time since I last sat down and drew something. With all the mayhem goin’ on recently, I almost forgot what it felt like to lose myself in my journal. But being back in Saint Denis, and preparing for this riverboat robbery -- it all got me itchin’ to sketch something again. And, I figured, who better to draw than the person I enjoyed being around the most?

Lightly scratching the pencil’s tip in a series of short strokes, I scribbled down Eddie’s ruffled hair and added some shadows around the sliver of sunlight runnin’ across his face, trying to make it as gentle as possible. He appeared to be in a complete state of solace right now, and I wanted to capture it as best I could. After all, I doubted it’d be a long while before he’d be this calm again, considerin’ what was coming up in the near-future...and I couldn’t deny that I was scared, too.

I mean, with the direction Dutch was headed in and the way our gang was slowly fallin’ apart, it made me question just how much longer this whole thing was actually gonna last. Civilization was storming through the country at a rate we couldn’t keep up with, and the more we ran from it, the more it seemed to close its walls around us. 

We was only delaying the inevitable, s’far as I was concerned. Sooner or later, America was gonna throw us out like it did everything else, and we’d have to be ready for it. Whether we wanted to or not.

Catchin’ my attention with the soft sound of rustling, a gentle sniff reached my ears as I stopped drawing for a second and put down my journal, only to find Eddie sleepily looking back at me from the bed. His eyes were half-open just as I expected, and a lazy smile radiated on his face as he rose from slumber.

I smirked at him, placin’ the journal on my lap.

“There he is,” I teased. “Thought you was never gonna wake up.”

Eddie chuckled at that and glanced at my journal, causin’ him to raise a brow outta curiosity.

“...Are you drawing me?” He asked.

I nodded and carefully began to tear the sketch out, handing it to him.

“You mentioned Rodrick burned the other portrait. I, ah...figured I could make a replacement.”

The pianist sat up and took the sketch in his grasp, admiring it in a fond manner before beaming at me.

“Thank you, Arthur,” he said, his expression dimming with sadness. “I mean it. ...I truly thought I’d never see you again when I was stuck in that cellar with Rodrick. I know I wasn’t there for very long, but...he certainly made it feel like an eternity. I’m just glad you showed up before anything else could happen. If you hadn’t...I...I don’t even want to think about that.”

I let out a guilt-ridden sigh, starin’ at the numerous scars Rodrick had left on Eddie’s body.

“You and me both. I’m just sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

Eddie’s sorrowful mood was quickly replaced with a sense of vengeance and he firmly shook his head in response, starin’ outside the window.

“I swear, Arthur...before all this comes to an end, I’m killing everyone in that bloody gang. Atticus, Rodrick, and anyone else who laid a finger on you or my family. They all deserve to die. They need to be wiped out.”

I suddenly thought back to what Hosea had warned me about and finally decided to bring up the subject, scootin’ my chair closer to the boy as Hosea’s final words rang in my head like a distant bell.

“...Actually, Eddie,” I said lowly, shutting my journal closed, “I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you about that.”

Eddie perked his head up, softening his tone slightly. “About what?”

I hesitated for a second and leaned forward, tryin’ to get my thoughts straight as the pianist waited for an explanation.

“I know this might sound strange at first, but...if my years as an outlaw have taught me anything, it’s that revenge...ain’t worth the sacrifice.”

The pianist gave me a puzzled look. “...I-I don’t understand. How can wanting to kill Atticus be a bad thing? Don’t you think he deserves death?”

“Of course I think he deserves death,” I replied. “But we may not be the ones to deliver it, and we’d be fools to hunt him down. I mean...just look at Dutch. He’s obsessed with takin’ revenge. It’s the only thing he lives for now. Sadie, too. Their want for revenge has consumed the both of them, and it’s turned ‘em into killers.” 

I paused for a second, lookin’ at Eddie with a caring expression. “...But you ain’t no killer, Eddie. And I don’t wanna see you become one. You’re still young. You still have the potential to live a normal life, once all this is over. Atticus has already stolen your past from you. Don’t throw away your future for that bastard, too.”

The boy fell silent at that and thought to himself, clearly experiencing some sorta inner conflict now that I was sayin’ these things. He seemed to see my point and I could tell he knew where I was coming from, but there was still a reluctance to agree.

Tryin’ to make my point more understandable for him, I decided to tell Eddie a story that I hadn’t told anyone else aside from Dutch and Hosea, and took a deep breath, hoping that this would be able to change his mind.

“...Lemme put it this way,” I began, gaining the pianist’s attention. “I was once in the same position as you, Eddie. I know how temptin’ revenge is...and I’ve seen what happens if you give in to it. I lost my family too. Many years ago. Just like you did.”

That piqued his interest. “...Really?”

A mournful breath escaped me. “Yeah. I...I used to have a son, actually. His name was Isaac. He was...such a good kid. And so was his mother, I guess. Just a nineteen-year-old girl named Eliza. They was the closest thing to a real family I ever had. I wasn’t able to stay with them all the time ‘cause of my work with Dutch, but every few months or so, I’d go back home and stay with ‘em for a couple of days. Try to give Isaac some sort of father figure. And for a while, it worked. But...just like everything else, it eventually failed.”

I brought my gaze to the floor, admittedly findin’ this a lot harder to talk about than I first anticipated.

“I came back home one day...and saw two crosses outside. I knew right away what happened. I just didn’t know how. It turned out -- they was robbed. And killed. All for ten bucks.” 

I swallowed out of grief and bit my lip, thinking back to that god-awful day as Eddie listened intently. 

“Their deaths...” I continued, trying keep it together, “they changed somethin’ inside me. I spent so long tracking down their killers. It was all I cared about for the next few months. I didn’t care about Dutch, or Hosea, or the gang...the only thing I wanted was to find the people who had killed them, and make them pay for it.”

I repainted the killers’ faces in my mind, gesturin’ to an invisible scene as I carried on with the story.

“...One night, I found their camp while I was searching along a river bank. They were all there, huddled ‘round a campfire and sharin’ drinks. Having a good ol’ time. They almost reminded me of our gang...but that didn’t matter to me. Without saying a word, I stormed in there like an absolute madman and shot the whole lot of them. Set their stuff on fire. Did everything I could to make sure they was sufferin’ in their last moments. And I sure as shit did.”

I glanced down at my hands. “When it was over, though...I felt...strange. I remember I was sittin’ there in the middle of their camp, kneeling on the ground with bodies lying all around me and blood staining my hands. The peace I had been looking for was nowhere to be found. Instead...I just felt empty. Like I no longer had a reason to live now that my family’s killers were dead. I had sacrificed everything for these bastards, and forgotten the man I once was in the process.”

I turned back to Eddie, resting a hand on top of his.

“You’re the only person I’ve found ever since then who’s...who’s made me care again. Who’s made me feel like this ain’t a waste of time. So please, Eddie. Don’t do what I did. Don’t become the man I am. You’ll never find peace otherwise, and there ain’t no goin’ back. Can you promise me you won’t?”

The boy was quiet for a while, evidently taken aback by the story I just told him and surprised about my past while he considered everything I said. There was still a fire in his eyes that told me his desire to kill Atticus hadn’t gone anywhere -- and that it probably wouldn’t anytime soon -- but against all better judgement, Eddie eventually gave in and sighed out of defeat, agreeing to promise this one thing.

“...Okay,” he whispered vehemently. “It’s...going to take me some time to understand all this completely, but if you think this is what’s best for me...then I’ll do it. I promise.”

I nodded in approval. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Having had enough of this melancholic mood, I cleared my throat and stood up from the chair, gettin’ ready to head outside the saloon as I brought my mind back to the robbery at hand.

“Anyways,” I said, “I’ll let you get dressed. Meet me outside when you’re finished cleanin’ up, and then we’ll head back to camp and...let Dutch know what’s what.”

“Alright,” the pianist replied. “You sure we can rob this riverboat?”

I shrugged, makin’ my way out the door.

“I ain’t sure of nothin’ just yet. All I know is there’s money on that boat, and Dutch wants it. So long as he’s got his eyes on that cash, we ain’t going nowhere. The best we can do is be prepared, and keep our eyes peeled. Other than that...” I opened the door, scoffing in an amused tone, “we’ll just pray, I guess. But at this point, pfft...I doubt even God would bother savin’ us.”


	26. Tame the Beast

From Arthur’s POV

LATER THAT DAY

SHADY BELLE

Hitching our horses at the posts outside of camp, Eddie went off to get somethin’ to eat while I searched for Dutch, eager to give him all the info Trelawny had told us the previous day. 

It looked like the gang was a bit more agitated than usual -- aside from little Jack who was mindin’ his own business and playin’ in the grass -- and not too far away from me, I could hear Bill and Javier arguing while Kieran got trapped in the middle, unsure of how to handle the situation like the innocent bystander he was.

What really concerned me though -- outta all this unrest -- was of course, Micah...who seemed intent on hammerin’ his boot-licking rhetoric into Dutch’s head at the moment as they spoke on the manor’s front porch, hidden away from the rest of the gang.

For whatever reason, they was talkin’ in hushed tones and making sure to keep their voices low, almost as if they didn’t want no one else to know what they were saying. Normally, I wouldn’t have thought much of it -- Dutch had private conversations with the gang’s members all the time, after all -- but the fact that it was Micah made me suspect something was off, and I didn’t like it one bit.

Approachin’ the two of them at a casual pace, I interrupted their little secret meeting, just barely picking up the last sentences of their conversation.

“--you really believe that?” Dutch questioned, sounding slightly dismissive, but also strangely intrigued.

“It’s just somethin’ to bear in mind.” Micah suggested, holding his hands up in a diplomatic manner.

His eyes wandered over to me, making him drop the subject. “Ah, but look who it is. Mister Morgan. You certainly know how to show up at the most inconvenient times, don’t you?”

I scoffed. “Nothing’s convenient when you’re around.”

Micah rolled his eyes at that and leaned against a pillar, makin’ himself right at home as Dutch brought his attention to me. “A real gentleman, as always.”

“Arthur!” Dutch called out, lighting a cigar. “You’re back. What’ve you learned?”

“We met with Trelawny,” I replied. “He says the party’s in four days. Well-- three, now.”

Dutch tossed the match away. “Three days. That should give us enough time, but we’ll have to move quick. So, what’s the situation lookin’ like? What can we expect?”

“About the same as any party. Accordin’ to Trelawny, there’ll be lots of rich folk, lots of money, and lots of security.”

The other man grinned. “Sounds good.”

I hesitated. “...And there’s also the fact that guests ain’t allowed to carry weapons on the boat.”

He quirked a brow. “What? How are we supposed to rob people without any guns?”

“Josiah reckons we can cheat in the Poker games,” I explained. “One of us’ll act all prim and proper, slip our way in, and another person will tell them what moves to make from a distance. I think Strauss would be best for that job.”

Dutch nodded. “I agree. This is definitely up Strauss’ alley. And what about the person who’ll be playin’ Poker? Any ideas who should do that?”

I rubbed my chin. “...I say Eddie.”

He breathed out a puff of smoke. “Not Micah?”

A sarcastic chuckle escaped me. “Well, that depends on if you actually want the money or not.”

The sleazy man frowned at that. “Oh...very funny, Morgan--”

“--Enough!” Dutch stepped in almost instantly, scowling at us. “Don’t you two start now.” He let out a fatigued sigh, goin’ along with my recommendation. “Very well. Since Arthur’s the one been investigatin’ this, I’ll go with what he says. Alright, then. Eddie will do the job. In the meantime...”

Dutch sauntered down the porch’s short stairs, gazing at the surrounding view. “...I don’t like the idea of us being completely unarmed on that boat, so I’ll see if we can’t disguise some of our boys as the security. Maybe even as the servants, too. As for the rest of you,” he glanced at me and Micah, “...just prepare yourselves. Once we have this money in our pockets, we’re leavin’ Shady Belle the first chance we get. We’ve cowered in this swamp for long enough, and our enemies are too close for comfort. It’s time for us to get out of America. It’s time for us to disappear, and it’s time...to live as the free men we was born to be.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THREE DAYS LATER

NIGHTTIME

THE GRAND KORRIGAN, SAINT DENIS

Straightenin’ my tie, I hurriedly walked alongside Trelawny and Eddie as the magician led us into the main area of the boat, all three of us trying to maintain a casual temperament while we passed by other guests in the party.

All around us, I could see servers practically shoving champagne glasses into peoples’ hands, high-society folks insincerely flatterin’ each other, “esteemed” businessmen getting drop-dead drunk at the bar, musicians slaving over their instruments, and even politicians bragging about how oh-so-extravagant their lives were as they turned every conversation into a gloating competition.

And as if the guests themselves weren’t insufferable already, the decor on this boat made me feel like a peasant. Just within this little area, there were two diamond chandeliers hanging from the tall ceiling, priceless paintings adorning the mahogany walls, and lavish furniture made from the most expensive of materials. It felt like I was walkin’ through a prodigal’s dream.

Really, the only good thing ‘bout this party so far was the ragtime music comin’ from the piano...and even that was being drowned out by the haughty laughter of the “fine” men and women on this boat.

Fortunately though, we weren’t entirely alone. I spotted Javier disguising as a guard at one of the doorways, and I also saw Lenny masquerading as a cleaner while he pretended to scrub the floor with a broom. And, sittin’ ever so conspicuously in one of the corners as he observed the Poker games, Strauss calmly enjoyed a glass of Scotch, silently acknowledging our presence with a subtle nod as he took a sip.

Personally, I just wanted to get the money, get this over with, and get the hell outta here. The fact that I was unarmed made me uneasy enough, but now that Eddie was gonna be the one throwin’ himself into the center of attention, I couldn’t help but fear for his safety. I mean, things was precarious already with Atticus constantly huntin’ us down, and on top of that, I didn’t even know how we were gonna escape this boat in case something went wrong. That tended to be the case when Trelawny was the one in charge of planning.

If anything were to go awry tonight, we’d be dead men...and I certainly didn’t wanna think about what would happen to the rest of the gang if we got killed. We had to be extremely cautious.

“Alright, gentlemen!” Trelawny said energetically, presenting us to the flamboyant party. “Here we are. The Grand Korrigan. Quite a splendid sight, wouldn’t you agree?”

Eddie glanced around in disgust, evidently not fond of the overall uptight mood. 

“...I hate this already.”

Josiah let out a chuckle. “Hold on to that feeling. You’ll blend in with these...wonderful people effortlessly.”

I went straight to business. “Well, whatever we do, we need to move quick. We ain’t got much time. Eddie, why don’t you go ahead and join one o’ the games? And make sure you can see Strauss from your seat. Trelawny, try to keep the other guests distracted from us, would you? We got enough eyes on us as is.”

The magician nodded. “Alright. Should be easy enough. And what about you, Arthur? What’ll you be doing?”

I lowered my voice. “Dutch mentioned there might be more money stashed away on this boat somewhere. I’m gonna have a look around, see if I can’t figure out where it is.”

Josiah raised a brow. “You seem unsure?”

A worried sigh escaped me. “Robbin’ a heavily armed riverboat without a gun tends to bring out the self-doubt in me...!”

The other man scoffed. “These people are virtually idiots! This is simple stuff.” He adjusted his top hat, switchin’ to a more elevated tone. “Now, have a good time, gentlemen, but don’t lose too much money...or your wives are going to kill me!”

I patted Trelawny on the shoulder, instantly makin’ my way towards the sumptuous-looking bar as Eddie got to work. “Whatever you say.”

Squeezin’ through the scattered crowds of people, I strolled past the multiple Poker tables as well as servers who were tryin’ to get my attention as I found a place to sit at the bar, attempting to look as ordinary as possible. 

Things seemed to be goin’ well so far, and if I was being honest, this party wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be. Sure, I didn’t really care for the guests or the social climbin’ or...really, any of it, but at least they had Poker to keep people entertained, and loads of money just sitting around. It was already a helluva lot more interesting than Miss Powell’s nightmare of a gala, and I hoped this one wouldn’t end the same way. Shootouts weren’t exactly my favorite pastime, especially when I didn’t have a gun.

Pulling up a chair at one of the tables, Eddie took on a much more pretentious facade as he introduced himself to the other fellers sittin’ around him, almost making me laugh at how well he was blending in with them.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Eddie greeted, sounding annoyed. “Edward Dawson. Sorry I’m late. My driver took his sweet time getting here.”

The man opposite of him smiled with the least amount of emotion I’d ever seen, his nose damn-near touchin’ the ceiling with how upturned it was.

“Desmond Blythe.”

The other players casually waved at the pianist. “Hello there.”

Gathering the cards, the dealer split the deck in half as Eddie got comfortable in his chair, keepin’ a close eye on Strauss who was guiding him from a distance.

“Not to worry,” the dealer reassured. “Welcome to the game, Mister Dawson.” He began shuffling the cards. “Okay, gentlemen. Let’s play.”

Desmond leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. “I hope you’re a player. Been too many cowards at these tables recently. Nothing less dignified than a man afraid to lose a little money.”

Briefly flickin’ his eyes in my direction, Eddie gave me a confident but slight nod as he took his cards in hand, trying to make some sort of conversation.

“Well, would you look at that,” the boy commented, glancing at his pile of chips. “Chips already stacked up and good to go. Thank God someone here knows what they’re doing. I was beginning to think everyone in Saint Denis was incompetent.”

The dealer sat back. “We aim to please, sir.”

“So...” Eddie said, bringing his attention to Strauss, “how are we all faring?”

The player sitting to Eddie’s left shrugged. “Some better than others.”

The boy folded. “If we all fared the same in life, now where would the fun be?”

Desmond grinned in agreement, tossin’ in his bet. “Quite.”

Eddie examined Mister Blythe for a moment, his eyes widening in recognition.

“Wait,” he inquired as the other gentlemen made their moves, “you wouldn’t happen to be Desmond Blythe the Hosiery King, would you? Perhaps I should’ve brought my other wallet.”

The conceited man appeared somewhat irritated at the observation. “...Not my preferred title, but...yes, you should have. Haha!”

Continuing the game, Desmond pushed all his chips into the center of the table without a hint of hesitance as the other men reluctantly followed his actions, kissin’ their sweet chips goodbye as they went all-in.

“...Here we go, then...” one of them murmured.

“To Hell with it.” Another said, damning the risks.

Finally revealin’ their cards, Blythe placed his hand down and laid out three queens as a smug expression crept its way onto his face, the other players unveiling measly combinations.

The dealer picked up the deck, adding two final community cards before announcing the winner.

“Mister Blythe wins with three queens.”

He let out a victorious guffaw at the outcome, tossing his cards back to the dealer as the majority of the table quickly cleared out.

“Goodbye, gentlemen!” Desmond looked at Eddie. “I guess it’s just you and me now, friend.”

The pianist prepared himself. “I guess it is.”

“Time to see if you’re really the man you seem to think you are.”

Eddie straightened his posture, scootin’ his chair closer to the table. “Likewise, Mister Blythe.”

Desmond placed a big blind. “So, what business are you in, Mister Dawson?”

The boy took his cards in hand. “I’m an oil man.”

“Funny,” Blythe picked up, “I haven’t heard of you.”

Eddie threw in a bet. “Oh...you will.”

Blythe decided to raise and took a handful of chips, nonchalantly setting them down next to Eddie’s.

“You got enough chips there to go a little higher?” He taunted. Jesus, this man was infuriating.

The pianist looked at Strauss’ signal, makin’ the bet even higher. “Your confidence is refreshing, Mister Blythe. I’ll raise.”

Desmond’s arrogance dimmed slightly at the action. “Call.”

The dealer placed three community cards down, revealing a seven of diamonds, a ten of clubs, and a jack of spades.

Blythe’s snobbish smirk returned almost immediately. “Okay, Mister Dawson. I’m all-in.”

Eddie went along, throwing in some chips. “I’ll call.”

Displayin’ their cards, Desmond laid out a pair of jacks while “Dawson” revealed a pair of queens, both of them eager to see the last two community cards.

Slipping a pair out of the deck, the dealer presented a king of clubs and a three of hearts, crowning Eddie the victor.

Desmond angrily tossed his cards away at the sight, cursin’ to himself in a heated tone. “Shit...! Shit!”

Eddie chuckled, gathering his prize. “Looks like good fortune is on my side today. I suppose this means you’re done?”

Blythe’s eyes narrowed in an offended manner. “Done?”

“Bust,” the boy explained, rising from his chair. “Or...do you have something else to play with?”

“...Meaning?”

The pianist paused for a second, pickin’ up some of the chips. “Well...I was told there were some serious players on this boat. But maybe that’s not you, no offense--”

Desmond pointed a finger at Eddie. “Sit your Limey ass down.”

Eddie firmly put the chips back on the table. “...Why?”

Blythe wasn’t quite finished just yet. “I got a watch.”

The pianist chuckled sarcastically. “My, my.”

“An expensive one...” He clarified. “Real fine. Swiss. A Reutlinger, no less. It’s in the safe upstairs. It’s worth more than you.”

Eddie considered the offer, glancin’ at both me and Strauss before deciding to accept the challenge.

“Alright,” he agreed, sitting back down. “I trust you.”

Desmond seemed satisfied. “Good. Now play.”

“...As you wish.”

Resuming the game unexpectedly, the dealer began shufflin’ the deck once again as Blythe and Eddie placed their blinds, eager to see who the winner of this round would be. Though, I guessed most of us already knew.

“So,” Desmond said as the dealer gave him his cards, “you must know Leviticus Cornwall, big oil man like you?”

The boy quickly thought of a lie. “Of course. We’ve crossed paths. I was fortunate enough to tour an operation of his in New Hanover.”

Ignoring Eddie’s previous statement, Blythe barely peeked at his cards before lettin’ out a confident laugh, instantly shoving all his chips into the center of the table.

“I am one-hundred percent all-in, Mister Dawson!” He announced. Even the dealer could sense his boldness.

“Don’t worry, sir,” he reassured meekly. “Everyone is the author of his own good fortune...”

Eddie looked to Strauss for guidance, sighing in uncertainty as he followed Desmond’s actions. “Well...nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

The two of them flipped over their cards.

“Pair of kings.” Eddie observed, earning a chortle from his opponent.

“Very good,” Blythe praised, displayin’ a pair of aces, “but not good enough!”

“...Shit.”

Layin’ out all the community cards at once, the dealer put down a nine of diamonds, an ace of diamonds, and a four of spades, followed by a jack of diamonds -- the tables was turnin’ now -- and a two of diamonds.

“Yes...!” Eddie cheered. “You little beauty.”

The dealer shrugged at Desmond. “Hard lines, Mister Blythe. Mister Dawson wins with an ace-high diamond flush.”

Desmond shook his head out of annoyance. “God...damn you...! Err, n-no offense.”

Eddie smiled proudly at him. “None taken.”

A man who I assumed was Blythe’s butler came waltzin’ up to the table, congratulating the pianist on his “victory.”

“Well played, sir.” He placed a comforting hand on his master’s shoulder. “...Unlucky, Desmond.”

The pianist straightened his suit. “Forgive my lack of discretion, gentlemen, but...where is this Reutlinger you mentioned?”

Demond’s butler beckoned Eddie. “It’s upstairs. Shall we go and have a look?”

“Of course. Lead the way.”

The boy stood up and began followin’ the man to the ornate stairwell, leaving Blythe all by his lonesome at the table as he grieved for his empty wallet. No one seemed to suspect that Eddie was a cheat -- yet -- and it looked like Desmond’s butler was leading him straight to the stash of cash Dutch mentioned before.

I sighed out of relief.

I guessed now, all we had to focus on was gettin’ off this damned boat before anyone realized just who we were. I wasn’t entirely sure what Trelawny’s plans were for that, but at least we got the money in our pockets. And even better, it seemed as if Josiah, Lenny, Javier and Strauss had all pretty much gone unnoticed by the other guests in the party. ...I only wished I coulda said the same for myself.

Outta the corner of my eye, I spotted one of the guests approachin’ me with a glass of champagne in his hands as he closely studied my face, probably wondering just who the hell I was. ...Shit. Had someone recognized me? I certainly hoped not.

I braced myself for the upcoming conversation, only to hear a surprisingly familiar voice callin’ out to me.

“Fancy meetin’ you here, sunshine.”

My heart practically froze. There was only one person in the entire country who called me that, and just by hearin’ that nickname again, I knew immediately who it was.

I steadily turned to face the man, trying my best to keep calm.

“...Rodrick Kinglsey...?”

The deranged man grinned at me, his injured eye covered by an elegant patch to go with the three-piece suit he was wearing. Though, it didn’t make him look any less crazy.

“Try not to mind the eyepatch,” Rodrick teased, noticin’ my line of sight. “I don’t like it neither, but Atticus said I had to look...presentable. And it seems you’ve cleaned up, too. Heh. The things we do for money...” 

He took a sip of his drink. “Now, before you go and do anythin’ stupid, I’d advise you not to make a scene. After all,” Rodrick wrapped a friendly arm around my shoulder and brought my attention to other members of Atticus’ gang who were just now arriving at the party, “I ain’t alone on this boat. Make one wrong move, and it could be your last. ...We can discuss this like gentlemen, can’t we?”

I gritted my teeth in concentration, desperately wishin’ I had a gun on me right now, and also wondering just when the hell Atticus’ gang got on the boat. How did they know we’d be here? When did they even board the ship? Was Atticus with them? It couldn’t just be mere coincidence that we ran into each other. 

Goddammit...just when I thought this night was goin’ smoothly.

“What the hell are you people doin’ here?” I whispered sternly, still trapped in Rodrick’s grip.

He laughed casually. “Same as you, I suppose. Just here to enjoy some...‘friendly’ competition.”

I scoffed. “...Sure.”

Kingsley loosely gestured to the Poker games. “So...you try your hand at any o’ these tables yet, Mister Morgan? I’m sure a man like you would do just fine. Especially with a little extra...‘help.”

I picked up on that instantly, my heart startin’ to pound faster with every passing second. This bastard knew about our plans.

“Look,” I snapped back, “if you’re here to steal our score--”

“--Oh, I don’t care about about the score,” Rodrick interrupted. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind robbin’ a few hundred bucks, but I think we both know why I’m really here. Yeah...I’m far more interested in that boy of yours. Mister ‘Dawson.’ You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you, Arthur?”

I cocked my head at him. “Even if I did, you really think I’d tell you?”

The man chuckled. “No. But Atticus insisted I had to be civilized, even though I told him that wouldn’t work.” He gave me a condescending pat on the back. “Arthur Morgan’s a man of action, after all. Not words. Almost nobody knows just how deep his relationship with young Theo goes, yet it’s pretty clear just by watchin’ the things he does.”

A puzzled expression covered my face, causing Rodrick’s smile to stretch even wider.

“Oh, yeah. I saw how you killed Middleton. Hardly left anything to bury. ‘Cept for maybe a finger. Eh, it was for the best, to be honest. Thatcher used to be quite the assassin, but he turned soft when it came to killin’ the Bishop boy. Reminded him too much of his own child.”

The redhead shook his head in an impressed manner. “And poor ol’ Colm. Christ...by the time we went to clean up his body, the man’s face had been smashed in, and there was a hole in his forehead.” 

He snickered in a goading tone, trying to spark a fire inside me. “You...really get mad...when people hurt Eddie, don’t you? Almost...uncontrollably so.”

Rodrick leaned closer to my ear. “I wonder how you’d react...if I hurt him?”

I glowered at the man. “What’re you talkin’ about, you crazy bastard? You already did. You tortured the kid.”

“And I enjoyed every second of it,” he admitted, starin’ blankly in the distance. “The boy turned out to be much more resilient than I anticipated, but...just the idea...of what your sour face would look like once you found out what I had done to him...”

Rodrick slowly turned back to look at me and -- upon seein’ my pissed-off expression -- instantly broke out into a hysterical guffaw, his shoulders shakin’ in sync with his laughs as he separated himself from me.

“Yeah...!” He exclaimed, almost cackling at this point. “Pretty much exactly like that!”

The man placed his glass of champagne down on the bar and leaned on it for a moment, wipin’ away a series of genuine tears as he let out an amused sigh.

“Oh...” Rodrick breathed out once his laughter died down. “Who am I kidding, Arthur?” He stood back up, smirkin’ widely at me. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Without warning, the lunatic suddenly smashed his glass into the side of my head and initiated a fight, causing all the other guests on the boat to start screamin’ in alarm as Rodrick unleashed hell, swinging his fists wildly at me like there was no tomorrow.

And just before I could even attempt to bring him down, the man had grabbed a security guard by the collar and repeatedly bashed his head against the bar’s marble counter, stealin’ his gun afterwards before going trigger-happy on me.

“DON’T YOU RUN FROM ME, MORGAN!” He bellowed, firing one shot after another as I ran like hell, splinters erupting behind me once the bullets blasted into the wall.

“WE AIN’T DONE YET!”

Pushin’ over one of the Poker tables, I hastily took cover behind the flimsy piece of furniture while I frantically searched around for any means of defense, shielding myself from Rodrick’s sporadic shots as Javier came running to my rescue.

“Here, Arthur!” He offered, tossing his rifle to me.

Snatching the weapon straight off the floor, I hurriedly cocked the firearm and poked my head out of cover, only to see that Rodrick and his friends had gotten their hands on Lenny, Josiah, and Strauss, and were now holdin’ them hostage.

“Come on out, sunshine!” Kingsley yelled with a demented smile, his voice carrying even more force than the bullets he was firing mere moments ago. “Or I’ll sink this goddamn boat...and every sad son-of-a-bitch on it!”

I retreated back behind the table and slammed my fist on the floor out of frustration, silently cursin’ to myself as I thought about what to do next. Normally, I woulda just killed Rodrick and set Lenny free, but those bastards had captured everyone except me and Javier. If either of us took a single shot, the other two hostages would be executed immediately. We couldn’t fight them head-on, but we also couldn’t let them kill the other gang members. 

What the hell were we supposed to do...?!

Takin’ a deep breath, I decided to play along with Rodrick for now and carefully stood up from my hiding spot, instantly causing him and his allies to aim their weapons in my direction as Javier and I approached the middle of the boat.

Kingsley followed my every step with his gun, blatantly grinning out of satisfaction.

“Ah...and there he is,” He taunted, tightenin’ his grip on Lenny’s neck. “The devil himself.”

Javier and I stood side-by-side, paralyzed on the spot like a pair of deer. Neither of us could see any way outta this situation just yet, and aside from all the chaos we was already dealin’ with, Eddie was nowhere to be found. 

Whether that was because the boy was hiding somewhere else, or because he had already been captured -- I had no idea. But the thought of Rodrick findin’ him terrified me, and I knew that no matter what happened, I couldn’t tell them where he was. I wouldn’t.

Deciding to take my chances, I inched closer to Kingsley and very subtly took a single step forward with the hopes of catchin’ him by surprise, only to have the man shoot a bullet right in front of my foot as I violently sprung back.

“Move one more...goddamn muscle...!” Rodrick roared, drilling his gun into Lenny’s temple, “and I swear, I will shoot this boy right here, right now, RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!”

I instantly came to halt, admittedly trembling like a little boy on the inside as smoke rose from the wooden planks underneath me. I’d met some crazies in my lifetime -- hell, some of ‘em was even in the gang -- but Kingsley made them all look like saints. Where in the hell did Atticus find this man?

“Well then...” the redhead said, calmin’ down slightly, “now that we have an understanding, won’t you gentlemen be so kind as to drop them weapons, and raise your hands in the air?”

Javier and I exchanged looks with each other, both of us reluctantly followin’ orders before putting our guns down and lifting our arms above us.

“There you go...” Rodrick praised. “Nice and easy. ...Now then,” he cocked the hammer on his pistol, “I don’t believe I was clear enough before. Where exactly is...Mister Ryan?”

Neither of us said anythin’ in response, causing Kingsley to instantly fire a bullet straight into Lenny’s head and kill the kid on the spot.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, about ready to raise hell, only to have an array of guns aiming at me.

“Easy there, sunshine...” Rodrick warned. “Wouldn’t wanna get shot, now would you? After all,” he dropped Lenny’s body to the floor, “you are my favorite out of the entire gang, Arthur. I don’t wanna see you die. And besides, what would poor Eddie do without you there to protect him...?”

Suddenly remembering that Eddie was still out there somewhere, I backed down at the thought of him and forced myself to show some restraint, restlessly stayin’ in place.

Kingsley chuckled at the sight and glanced at one of his comrades, talkin’ about me as if I was some kinda wild animal.

“You see, Mrs. Middleton?” He commented. “That’s how you tame the beast. He ain’t no big, bad wolf like Colm said. The sad truth is...he’s simply human.”

I paused for a moment. 

Did he say Mrs. Middleton? Shit. I never knew Thatcher had a wife. But I had no doubts that she knew about me. In fact, there were a lot of secrets within our gang that Atticus’ people seemed to know about, and it made me question just how secure our little camp really was.

Before I could think on the subject any further though, I suddenly noticed Eddie sneakin’ back into this area as he crept through the doorway that led to the stairwell, his clothes stained with small splatters of blood. I guessed he had already been through a fight of his own. I was just glad to see him in one piece.

Getting a closer look at the situation, it didn’t take long for Eddie to figure out just what exactly was goin’ on before he brandished a rifle -- one that he probably stole from the guards -- and steadily aimed it straight at Rodrick’s head, ready to fire.

Just as he went to press the trigger however, one of Kingsley’s friends happened to hear the subtle noises comin’ from Eddie’s direction and instantly spotted him, creating just the distraction that I needed to make a move.

“Rodrick!” They called. “Over there!”

Whirlin’ around in surprise, the man averted his eyes from me and, for just a split second, appeared to forget all about us as I broke into a sprint and charged towards him like an angry bull, tacklin’ him to the floor.

Almost immediately, guns went firing all around us while Josiah broke free from his captor and elbowed them in the face, bolting directly for cover. In the meantime, Strauss was simply dragged away by Mrs. Middleton as he yelled for help, only for his voice to be drowned out by the explosive gunshots thunderin’ all over the place.

In order to avoid the dozens of bullets zippin’ past me, I hurriedly jumped off of Rodrick and reached for my own rifle, making a beeline straight for the exit as Javier ran after me, firing a number of blind shots to distract our enemies.

Sliding behind a wall, I held onto my weapon for dear life and, against my better judgement, quickly glanced back at the scene where the hostages were being held, only to come across the sight of Lenny’s corpse sitting in a pool of blood.

“Goddammit, Lenny...!” I cursed, clenchin’ my jaw. “Eddie?! Are you still alive?”

The pianist called out to me from behind another Poker table. 

“For now! We need to get out of here, Arthur! Is there any way to escape?”

I gestured to the door we used to enter the party.

“I think we can leave through there! But we’ll have to swim back to the city! So everyone follow me, and don’t look back! There’s too many of them for us to fight!”

Fleeing from cover, I raced from one end of the boat to another as Eddie, Javier, and Trelawny all ran beside me, our legs just barely escapin’ the shower of bullets that was raining down on the floor beneath us. 

It looked like most of Atticus’ gang was stayin’ back and firing at us from a distance, but Rodrick, on the other hand, decided to switch things up and retrieved a shotgun from one of the guards’ bodies, storming after our group like a goddamned predator. 

He didn’t seem to give one damn about gettin’ shot or being caught in the crossfire; all he cared about was catching up to us and marched relentlessly through every obstacle in his path, occasionally letting loose a shell here and there as we jolted outta the way.

“...Theodore Bishop!” Rodrick shouted in a singsong tone, cocking his shotgun. “I see you, boy!”

The man fired a shell at Eddie just as we hugged a corner and missed the boy by a centimeter, shattering an ornate lamp into dozens of pieces before proceeding with his hunt.

Finally reaching the exit, I practically tore one of the doors off its hinges and urged everyone else to go through first while Rodrick continued to pursue us, his weapon now out of ammo.

“Hurry!” I exclaimed, holdin’ the door open. “This way!”

Dashing to safety, Trelawny, Javier, and Eddie all scrambled through with an amount of speed I’d never seen as I followed their actions, slammin’ the door shut and locking it tight just before Rodrick could reach us.

The four of us all backed away from the exit and watched in horror as Kingsley viciously bashed the doors from the other side with the stock of his gun, hollerin’ at us like an absolute madman.

“Oh, you think you’re safe back there?!” He hammered his weapon against the wood. “Just wait until I find you again! Y’all are dead men, you hear?! DEAD MEN!”

I placed a firm hand on Eddie’s back and guided him away from the exit, escortin’ everyone to the exterior areas of the boat.

“C’mon,” I said. “We need to leave. Now!”

Scurrying through the corridors, our group wasted no time in putting this godforsaken riverboat behind us as Rodrick kept tryin’ to break the door down, his voice echoing throughout the area like thunder.

I had no idea what the living hell just happened, or how Atticus even knew we was gonna try to rob the boat, but we had to get as far as goddamned possible from Saint Denis now. What on Earth was Dutch thinkin’ when he decided to go after this tip? We already pushed our luck enough, robbing that bank...and I told him people was gonna suffer after what we did to Colm, but he just refused to listen to me. And now, Lenny was dead.

As for Strauss, I didn’t even know what his conditions were. Last I saw him, Mrs. Middleton was haulin’ him away, and I didn’t even have the chance to go after him...or retrieve Lenny’s body.

Everything was falling apart right now. Our gang’s numbers were slowly dwindling, the camp’s morale was next to nonexistent, and all this mayhem only reminded me how important it was to ensure Eddie made it out alive.

He and John...they was the only ones outta all of us who still had a chance to live a normal life. John had a family, and Eddie had a future ahead of him. The rest of us however, we were more ghosts than people. The world didn’t want folk like us no more, and sooner or later, we were just gonna have to come to terms with that.

For now though, all I wanted was to get enough money to leave this place, and possibly even this country. Shady Belle had become more of a large graveyard than a camp at this point...and I didn’t wanna be there when things finally came crashing down.

~~~~~~~~~~

MIDNIGHT

SAINT DENIS, THE HARBOR

Reachin’ a hand down, I helped Eddie up onto the pier as we all removed ourselves from the cold water, still in shock from everything that just occurred. It looked like Rodrick had given up on his pursuit -- for now -- and for the first time in a while, we actually had a moment to breathe.

Wiping some mud off Eddie, I tidied him up a bit and thoroughly looked him over, making sure the boy was okay.

“You alright?” I asked. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

The pianist shook his head. “No. They roughed me up a little, but I’m fine. It happened when Desmond’s butler took me to collect the watch. Things were going smoothly at first, but then...they just came out of nowhere. Ambushed us. Killed the butler, too...but I managed to escape.”

I froze. “Wait, Rodrick’s men found you?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.”

A horrible thought crossed my mind. “...Then...then why was Rodrick askin’ me where you were? What was the point of holding Lenny hostage if...he already knew...?”

The pianist’s eyes widened with realization and he furrowed his brows in an apologetic manner, immediately bringin’ a hand up to caress my cheek.

“Rodrick was playing games with you, Arthur. That’s all he does. That bastard will do anything to trick people into thinking their lives are over for the sole purpose of seeing how they’ll react. I’m...I’m sorry.”

I took a step back from Eddie and dragged a hand through my hair, suddenly feelin’ more disappointed with myself than I ever had in my entire life.

That maniac knew where Eddie was all along. I could’ve just told him his location, and it wouldn’t have made any difference. The boy still would’ve been fine...and Lenny would've been with us now. How the hell did I not see it before...? Oh, you goddamned idiot, Morgan. How did you not realize...?

“...L-Let’s just get back to camp,” I replied, blinking rapidly due to the tears that threatened to spill. “Dutch is probably wonderin’ where we are.”

Trelawny agreed in a disheartened voice. “Indeed. I think I’ll join you gentlemen for now. Saint Denis isn’t exactly ideal anymore.”

Javier jumped in. “And how are we supposed to tell Dutch what happened tonight? Where do we even start?”

I stormed away from the pier with my head hanging low, both confusion and rage rippin’ me apart as I silently damned this entire city to hell, ready to knock some sense into Dutch if he didn’t pack up and leave by tomorrow.

“...With the truth.”


	27. Wayward Son

From Arthur’s POV

SHADY BELLE, DUTCH’S OFFICE

“What do you mean he’s dead...?” Dutch asked, his face drained of all color as I gave him he tragic news. “...What the hell happened?”

“It was Rodrick,” I replied. “That maniac workin’ for Atticus. He just...shot Lenny. Killed the poor boy without a second thought...and he weren’t alone. There were other members from Atticus’ gang on the boat, too. They knew we was coming, Dutch. They were ready for us.”

Contrary to what I was expecting, the other man didn’t seem surprised by that in the slightest and simply stared into the distance, thinkin’ to himself as he rubbed his chin.

“...So Micah was right.”

I paused, shrugging outta confusion. “What? Right about what?”

Dutch gave me a suspicious glance and lowered his voice, steppin’ closer to me as he made sure no one was listening in.

“Micah reckons there’s a rat.”

I sighed in annoyance, thinking back to when I saw the two of them talkin’ on the front porch. So that’s what they were discussing.

“Does he, now.”

“I know your feelings for him, Arthur,” Dutch said, crossin’ his arms, “but think about it. Every time we have tried to pull off a job or go after a tip, Atticus’ gang has always been there waitin’ for us. That ain’t no coincidence. Someone out there is telling them our plans. Lettin’ them know what our next step is. They are killin’ our family, and they are just as responsible for Lenny’s death as Rodrick is. We need to find them.”

I still wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure, Dutch? It don’t take a genius to see that we’ve been anythin’ but discreet. We’ve stayed in Shady Belle for far too long, we’ve robbed damn-near every establishment in Saint Denis, and Atticus knows where we’re hiding. To be honest, I’m just surprised he hasn’t wiped us out already.”

Dutch rested his hands on his hips. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye out. I’ve already got a few ideas on who the rat could be, but I want you to help me find them. For all we know, there could be more than one. In the meantime...” he began making his way outta the office, “start packin’ your things. We’re leaving this swamp at first light, and then heading up north to a place called Beaver Hollow. Charles reckons we can stay there for a week or two.”

I followed Dutch out of the room, watchin’ as he descended the staircase. “...And after that?”

The older man looked up at me from under his hat, his eyes twinklin’ with that dark glint again.

“All in due time, my son. All in due time.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE NEXT MORNING

EAST OF LAGRAS

Navigating my way through the tall, droopy trees in this area, I left my horse at a small gatherin’ of shrubs and started traveling on foot to Hosea’s grave, eager to say one last goodbye before leaving for Beaver Hollow.

With all the pandemonium goin’ on recently, and Dutch’s erratic behavior, I hadn’t had a chance to stop by and visit the old man until today. It felt...strange seeing Hosea like this. I mean, he wasn’t the first friend I lost -- and I doubted he’d be the last -- but I had gotten so used to the man bein’ a part of my daily life that things just seemed...broken...now that he was gone. Incomplete. And frankly, I didn’t know how to fill the emptiness.

Hell, these days, I caught myself thinking about ghosts more than actual people. Instead of seein’ the folks who were still around back at camp, I always seemed to notice the ones who weren’t there...and it frightened me.

How many more people were we gonna lose before Dutch started thinkin’ straight? I understood that we needed money -- and shit ton of it -- but to me, it just didn’t seem like it was worth it to sacrifice half our gang in our pursuit of freedom.

After all, the whole point of our gang was to create a better society. A community of men and women livin’ by their own rules, free from civilization. But that weren’t gonna be possible if we didn’t have any people left to free.

Ah, well...I supposed we would just have to hold out for as long as possible. It was clear to me by now that Dutch had no plans on shiftin’ his mind away from Micah’s incessant ramblings, and the further he delved into that man’s mind, the more he seemed to lose his own.

The Dutch I had grown to know and love as a father, a friend, and a teacher...was no longer around. Nowadays, all I saw was a money-hungry fool willin’ to sell his own soul if it meant finding his freedom. I mean, the man barely seemed fazed when I told him about Lenny’s death.

But...maybe Dutch had always been like that. Maybe there was nothin’ different about him at all. Maybe...I just stopped being blind.

I just wished I had opened my eyes sooner.

Finally makin’ it out of the thick trees, I reached a small clearing in the forest and found Hosea resting in the center of it, a wooden grave marker standing somberly above him as tall strands of grass swayed peacefully around him.

It wasn’t anywhere near the kind of memorial Hosea deserved, and I felt even worse that we couldn’t give him a proper funeral, but it was better than being left to rot in this...wasteland of a civilized world.

At least, here, Hosea was surrounded by what he loved most. Nature. Ever since I was a boy, that old man had always loved nature. He grew up in the mountains. Spent more time outside than he did in his own house. Never seemed to get bored of travelin’ the country or exploring its secrets...especially when Bessie was still by his side.

It was one of the main reasons Hosea despised civilization so much; because it was killing the one thing he loved. And now, much to my dismay...it had also killed him.

Walkin’ closer to his grave, I suddenly noticed there was someone else visiting Hosea and stopped in my tracks, taken by surprise. The person’s arms were crossed at the moment, and their head hung low in a mournful manner as they looked down at Hosea’s grave, silently paying their respects.

It didn’t look like John or Abigail, and Dutch was still busy helpin’ the folk back at camp...so it couldn’t have been any of them. Who was this person?

Glancing down at the Schofield hanging from their waist, I instantly recognized the buck carving on its grip and the overall demeanor of its owner, causing a realization to light up in my head as a wave of sorrow washed over me.

I gently approached the other person, tilting my head in curiosity.

“...Eddie?” 

The boy quickly glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his name and snapped back to reality, turnin’ around to greet me.

“Oh, Arthur...! Sorry. I didn’t hear you arrive.”

I stepped next to Eddie, gazing at Hosea’s grave marker.

“Sayin’ goodbye?”

He nodded, clearly preoccupied. “I wanted to visit Hosea one more time before leaving for Roanoke Ridge. I didn’t know him for that long, but the man provided a lot of guidance I didn’t know I needed.”

A reminiscent chuckle escaped me. “Yeah...Hosea always had that impression on people. Includin’ myself. Dutch may have educated me, but Hosea’s the one who taught me.”

Eddie let out a sigh, his brow furrowed in discontent. “I just wish I knew what Hosea would do in this situation. I wonder what he’d say to Dutch...or to me.”

I picked up on his discouraged tone, leadin’ me to believe that there was something else on the boy’s mind.

“...You alright, Eddie?” I asked. He paused for a moment, trying to get his thoughts straight.

“...I...I don’t know. Maybe. It’s just...” Eddie fell silent and turned away from me, stepping back from the grave, “I was talking with John and Abigail the other day. They were thinking of...deserting the gang. They wanted to take Jack away and try to start a new life somewhere else. On their own.”

I scoffed in disappointment. “That don’t surprise me. It wouldn’t be the first time John’s ditched us.”

Eddie raised a brow at me. “Really?”

“Yeah. He disappeared for an entire goddamned year, once. Only, Abigail and Jack didn’t go with him. Why, you worried he’ll go through with it?”

The pianist shook his head and stared at the ground, his face stiff with hesitance as he thought about what to say next.

“Actually...I’m starting to think that maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”

That threw me off guard. “Wait, what? E-Eddie, we can’t just leave--”

“--I know you love Dutch, Arthur,” he interrupted, his voice heavy with dread. “And I know this gang means everything to you, but...you’ve seen what’s been happening recently. Hosea’s dead, Lenny’s dead, Strauss is missing...who’s next? You? Me? John? Whose grave are we digging after this...?”

I was silent in response, causing Eddie to take a breath and regain his composure before continuing with his train of thought.

“...I’m sorry, Arthur,” he apologized sincerely. “I don’t mean to put you in this position, but with everything that’s been going on lately, I can’t help but fear for your safety. Every time you and I do a mission together, I’m always terrified I’ll be returning to camp without you. And that incident with Rodrick on the riverboat...we can’t let something like that happen again.”

“I hear you, Eddie,” I assured, puttin’ a comforting hand on his shoulder, “but I can’t abandon Dutch. Not now. I owe him my life. He saved me when I was just a kid. Raised me like a son. He’s the only reason I’m here today. Besides, you said it yourself: you ain’t never runnin’ from anything ever again.”

Eddie looked me in the eye. “And I meant it. But unlike before, I don’t care about saving myself this time. If I have to die, then so be it. I just care about keeping you safe. I know how hard you work to protect me, Arthur, but this goes both ways. I have a job to protect you, too. And I can’t just...stand here and watch as you throw your life away for someone who doesn’t even care about it anymore!”

That caught my attention. “You don’t think Dutch cares about me?”

The pianist gave his honest opinion. “If Dutch still cared about you, he wouldn’t be choosing Micah’s advice over yours. He would’ve listened when you told him the riverboat robbery was a bad idea, and yet, here we are.”

Eddie leaned against a nearby tree and dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a fatigued breath. “I’m not saying Dutch doesn’t care about you at all, Arthur, but he certainly cares a whole lot more about money.”

I rubbed my chin in thought, admittedly seeing Eddie’s point as much as it pained me to say it.

“So...what d’you suggest?”

The boy flicked his eyes around the forest in a cautious manner and softened his voice, takin’ my hand into his.

“...We do the same thing as John and Abigail, we pack our things, and we leave the gang. It’s something much easier said than done, but we’d finally be free of all this chaos. Don’t you think that’s worth it?”

I sighed in defeat and contemplated his plan for a while, absolutely torn by this dilemma. Of course I wanted what was best for Eddie, and I knew he weren’t wrong when he said Dutch was gonna be this gang’s downfall, but at the same time...I had history with that old man. He was a father to me. I couldn’t just...walk away and pretend he never existed.

Then again though, I supposed it was finally time to ask myself which I thought was more important. My loyalty to Dutch, or my promise to keep Eddie safe.

I was just afraid to know the answer.

Noticing my hesitance, it became quite clear to the pianist that I wasn’t ready to make a decision just yet and he backed down for a moment, still holdin’ on to my hand as his shoulders slouched in discouragement.

“Even if you won’t go along with the plan right now,” Eddie said his eyes downcast, “...will you at least consider it? If not for yourself, then...for me?”

Chewin’ on my lip in concentration, I briefly glanced at Hosea’s grave and put my heart to the test, thinkin’ about what that man would’ve wanted for us.

Before he died, I remembered Hosea was always goin’ on about how Eddie and I had a future ahead of us. That we had the potential to make something outta our lives, and break away from this world of crime we had grown so accustomed to.

I didn’t know if that was still the case, and if I was being perfectly honest, the realistic side of me suspected it was too late to make any kind o’ difference... but as much as I cared about this gang...I loved Eddie even more.

So even if it might’ve been futile to think about runnin’ away, or starting some sorta normal life for the two of us, every fiber in my being wanted to go for it anyways.

There was absolutely no guarantee we’d make it out of this alive, but just knowing that there was a chance we could live together as a normal couple...was enough to keep me going.

Finally givin’ in to Eddie’s pleas, I agreed to think about the subject and nodded in acceptance, reassuring him with a sincere gaze as I planted a short kiss on his forehead.

“Okay.” I promised quietly, placing a soft hand on the back of his head. “If you truly think it’s what’s best for us...then I’ll consider it.”

Eddie smiled warmly at that brought me into an embrace, resting his body against my chest as he sighed in relief.

“Thank you, Arthur. I know it’s not an easy choice to make, but regardless of what you decide, I’ll be there. ...Even if it means I have to fall with the gang.”


	28. Death Warrant

From Arthur’s POV

ONE WEEK LATER

BEAVER HOLLOW

Finishing my drawing of this camp, I flipped to the next page and began writing a few words on it, hopin’ to scribble down some of my thoughts while I had the opportunity to relax for a moment.

The new camp wasn’t as bad as I was expecting it to be -- considerin’ Micah picked it -- but despite all of his assurances, something still felt...off...about the area.

I couldn’t quite place it, but when the caravan arrived at Beaver Hollow, one o’ the first things I noticed was the multiple bloodstains decorating our new home. Micah insisted it weren’t nothing to worry about -- and Dutch seemed more than okay with settling down here -- but it was still pretty obvious that someone else had been livin’ here before we moved in.

The dried bloodstains, the ominous cave, the random crates of weapons and dynamite that were left behind by the previous owners...it was clear that this wasn’t exactly a “sanctuary.” And there was also the fact that most of the locals avoided Beaver Hollow like the goddamned plague.

I had no idea what made this place so portentous, but regardless of whatever dangers we was gonna have to deal with out here, Beaver Hollow was still a helluva lot better than Shady Belle. It may not’ve had a big manor for us to sleep in, but it also weren’t riddled with old bullet holes, gators, marshlands, and for the first time in a while, we actually had some fresh air to breathe.

Perhaps we’d make a home of this place yet. I just hoped it wouldn’t be for very long.

Putting my pencil down, I shut the journal closed and slipped it back into my satchel, only to be stopped mid-action when I overheard some commotion goin’ on at Pearson’s wagon.

It didn’t look like Pearson himself was involved with whatever was happening, but Eddie had just brought in a deer carcass and was now arguing with Micah at the moment. Things were still civil, and I doubted Eddie would let it escalate too much, but I listened in anyways, hopin’ to at least hear something that would give me a good enough reason to strangle Micah if need be.

“--and Dutch said you was gonna be useful,” Micah retorted, gesturing to the deer. “Look at this thing. It’s almost as skinny as you. Who the hell’s this gonna feed? Jack?”

Eddie sighed in annoyance, stabbing his knife into a wooden table. “Well, I don’t see you feeding anyone. When was the last time you went out hunting in the woods?”

The other man chuckled in a condescending tone, pointing to his head. “I’m too busy helpin’ Dutch come up with plans. Someone’s gotta help the old man, after all, now that Hosea’s gone. He just needs a little...guidance. But we all have to pull our weight, Ryan. We all have to earn our keep. At least...” Micah glanced over at Uncle, “...that was the idea.”

Yanking his knife out the table, Eddie took hold of the deer and started skinnin’ it, doing his absolute best to ignore Micah.

“If you think you can do better, be my guest. Now, shut up and go bother someone else. I have to get this thing ready for Pearson.”

Micah laughed at that and began sauntering in Dutch’s direction, wavin’ a casual goodbye to Eddie as he took his leave.

“Whatever you say, Ryan.”

Waiting for the man to disappear from sight, Tilly suddenly joined the conversation once Micah was outta earshot and tried to reassure Eddie, holdin’ her book close to her chest as she spoke.

“Don’t listen to him, Eddie,” she encouraged. “We all see the work you’re doin’ for this gang. I know Arthur certainly does.”

The pianist softened his voice slightly and wiped some sweat off his brow, taking a break from the skinning.

“Thanks, Tilly...but Micah’s right. This deer hardly has any meat on it. In fact, most of the animals in this region don’t. It’s rare to see a healthy buck in these parts.”

The woman let out a concerned breath. “I hope not. We got a lotta mouths to feed. Anyway...I’ll let you get back to work. And I probably should too, before Grimshaw threatens to tan my hide again.”

“Sure.”

Returnin’ to their chores, Tilly wandered to a different part of the camp while Eddie stayed behind and continued slicing at the deer, causing me to walk over to him now that he was by himself.

I didn’t know what the hell Micah’s problem was with Eddie, but it seemed as if things had grown more tense between ‘em over the past few days. I mean, nobody in the gang was particularly fond of Micah anyways, but it felt especially uncomfortable when those two were near each other.

Fortunately however, I was around camp most of the time, so Micah usually left Eddie alone. Though I still couldn’t help but wonder where this sudden hatred was comin’ from. Was it ‘cause Eddie was the youngest? Was it because he was close with me? I really didn’t know. Maybe the boy would have some answers.

Walkin’ up behind the pianist, I peeked over his shoulder and displayed a small smile, hoping to cheer him up a little.

“You okay, Eddie?” I asked. “What was that all about?”

Turning around to face me, Eddie stood up from the ground and squinted as the sun hit his eyes, makin’ him look even more annoyed than before.

“Oh, it’s nothing...” he brushed off. “It’s just -- the camp was running low on food so, I went to go hunting earlier, but...” Eddie glanced at the deer, “I dunno, Arthur. This place is strange. All the animals...they look sick. They’re so...weak and fragile.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I was fishin’ at the Elysian Pool the other day. Caught a nice pike...but the bastard looked like it had been dead for a week already.”

Eddie cleaned his hands with a rag. “That’s what I’m talking about. Everything looks diseased here. Even the people. Have you been to Butcher Creek yet? The residents there are even worse than the deer.” The pianist let out an uneasy sigh. “You don’t...you don’t suppose there could be some illness going around Roanoke Ridge?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I certainly hope not. Our people are hungry already. Last thing we need’s for them to be sick, too.”

“Then we should stop eating the animals here altogether. We’d be safer sticking to the canned foods, but that stuff costs money. Which is another thing we’re low on.”

I paused out of confusion. “What? What happened to the money we just robbed from the riverboat?”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t know. Apparently, Dutch has stashed most of it away somewhere...in a...secret box, or something.”

A scoff escaped me. “Ah, o’ course. He does that with every camp. Just to make sure our money’s safe. But...hey, tell you what. Why don’t you keep skinnin’ that deer, and I’ll head into town? Buy some more provisions. Also see if I can’t find another place to hit in Annesburg.”

The boy quickly put a hand on my chest, stoppin’ me in my tracks.

“Wait, don’t go alone. I’d feel better knowing you were with someone.”

I briefly scanned the camp with my eyes, choosing a partner to come with me.

“Alright,” I agreed. “What about Sadie?”

Eddie chuckled. “Well, she might start another shootout if there are any O’Driscolls in town, but at least I know you’ll be in good hands. Just...be careful, okay? Both of you.”

“Of course.”

Sayin’ goodbye, the pianist pecked a short kiss on my cheek and playfully patted my face, making me turn a bit red since most of the gang could see us here.

“Eddie--!” I mumbled awkwardly. The other man did nothing but laugh.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist. Anyways,” he gestured outta the camp, “I’ll let you go. Stay safe.”

Nodding at Eddie in response, I began headin’ to the camp’s entrance and called for Sadie along the way, urging her to join me.

“Mrs. Adler!” I exclaimed. “You free? Could use a hand.”

The woman happily accompanied me and followed along at a brisk pace, clearly eager to get outta this dreary forest.

“Sure. What we doing?”

“Nothin’ fancy. Just picking up some supplies in town, lookin’ for tips to investigate. You know the drill.”

Sadie smirked. “Didn’t think you’d ever go shoppin’ with me again after what happened in Rhodes.”

I climbed onto one of the gang’s wagons and helped her onto the seat, taking hold of the reins as a chortle escaped me.

“Oh, you know me, Mrs. Adler. Chaos has a habit o’ finding me anyway. May as well have a friend along when it comes.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A LITTLE LATER

ANNESBURG

Ridin’ into the gloomy town, Sadie and I already started to see gigantic clouds of smoke blanketing the factories in the distance as they blocked out the white sun and darkened the settlement below, shrouding everything in shadows.

It felt like the entire place was covered in coal dust, and all around me, I could hear folk coughin’ up a storm as they breathed in the toxic air, powerless to prevent the damage they was causing to their lungs.

And if they weren’t workin’ for the mines, most of the people here preferred to stay inside their drab lil’ houses as a way to escape from all the crime littering the streets.

As for the ones who were outside though, they all looked lifeless and completely devoid of any vigor. It was like no one here had seen the sun in decades, and judgin’ by the condition of most of Annesburg’s residents, I doubted there was gonna be any money for us to steal.

Well...I still hoped we’d at least find something.

The gang had been struggling even more ever since that incident with Rodrick, and if we didn’t find a decent score to take soon...we weren’t gonna last for very much longer. It was now or never. We’d have to rob someone eventually...or die off.

“So...” Sadie said, observin’ the dead town, “...any ideas on where to start in a god-awful place like this, Mister Morgan?”

I scoffed, bringing the wagon to a stop. “The exit, probably. Still worth a look though. I imagine these factories require a whole lotta money to stay up and running. Someone’s gotta be funding them.”

She climbed down from the wagon. “True. Well, why don’t you get to searching? In the meantime, I’ll head to the general store and buy some provisions for the camp.”

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you back here in a while. Oh, and Mrs. Adler?”

The woman quirked a brow at me. “Yeah?”

I sighed. “...Keep that gun holstered, will you?”

Sadie snickered playfully. “What kind of a woman do you think I am?”

I chuckled, waving her goodbye. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met another like you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Wanderin’ around Annesburg’s muddy streets, I carefully investigated the different establishments in this place and listened closely to every group of strangers I passed, hoping to overhear any sorta tip or lead.

So far, it sounded as if the only building worth checkin’ out in this hellhole was the gunsmith. Apparently, the people in this town took better care of their firearms than they did themselves. Spent all their money stockin’ up on weapons and ammo, and didn’t have much need for anything else.

I supposed it only made sense with the ridiculous amount of crime in Annesburg, but at the same time, I wasn’t too fond of the idea of robbin’ the only guy in this town who had an entire shop full of guns. There had to be something else.

Hugging a corner, I found myself roamin’ towards the harbor as the smell of salt water hit my nose, and an impressive display of boats came into view. I could hear seagulls cawing, boat engines humming, waves splashing against the pier, and most importantly, an interesting discussion seemed to be taking place among the people there.

I took a step back and concealed myself behind a wall, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“I believe I’ve made myself more than clear, Mister Rose. I have no intentions on getting involved with yet another gang. I have enough problems with outlaws as is.”

I froze. Did that man just say Mister Rose? As in Atticus Rose?

I couldn’t goddamned believe it. What the hell was that bastard doing here?

Peeking around the corner, I squinted through the sunlight and caught a glimpse of the two men participatin’ in this meeting, only to find -- not one -- but two familiar faces talking near one of the boats.

Atticus was here, alright.

And so was Leviticus Cornwall.

“I would encourage you to reconsider, Mister Cornwall,” Atticus said lowly, his tone drenched in venom. “We may stand on opposite sides of the law, but we share the same goal.”

Leviticus let out an amused scoff and addressed one of his employees, hardly listenin’ to Atticus as he ordered his workers around.

“What, money? Well, I can assure you, Mister Rose, that everyone in America shares that goal. Janson! Send a telegram to Goldberg in New York. Tell him I won’t borrow at more than three point two percent...”

“Yes, sir.”

“...And double the security on the stagecoach coming in from West Elizabeth! It’ll be two days before it arrives, and I don’t want anyone laying a single finger on it before it reaches Annesburg!”

“Right away, sir!”

Atticus stood by patiently and thoroughly observed the businessman, his expression barely changing as Cornwall brought his attention back to him.

“Like I said,” Leviticus continued, “outlaws are already making a mockery of me, and I’ve spent a considerable fortune trying to help those...useless Pinkertons find them! The last thing I need is to cross paths with another criminal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mister Rose...” the man straightened his tie and began walking away, “I have many things to attend to. Good day.”

But Atticus wasn’t done yet. He simply stayed put and carried on with the discussion, bringin’ up a topic he knew Leviticus wouldn’t be able to ignore.

“Things more important than Dutch van der Linde?”

Cornwall paused at that and glanced over his shoulder, suddenly interested in what Atticus had to say.

“...Van der Linde?” He repeated. “Why? You know something about him?”

Atticus linked his hands together behind his back. “I know he’s in this area. And I also know that now is the perfect time to strike. Dutch is weaker than he’s ever been, Mister Cornwall, but it seems that even now, the law fails to apprehend him. Why not let someone outside the law take him down?”

Leviticus slowly found himself slinkin’ back into the conversation due to Atticus’ persistence and eyed the man up-and-down, his curiosity now piqued.

“Alright, Mister Rose...” he granted, “you have my attention.”

Atticus stepped closer to Cornwall, almost unable to hide the victorious smirk creepin’ onto his face as he proposed an idea.

Before I could listen to anymore of what they were sayin’ however, someone else suddenly snuck up behind me, causin’ me to instantly reach for my gun.

“Relax!” They whispered in an alarmed tone. “It’s just me. Sadie.”

I sighed out of relief. “Jesus, Sadie. I coulda killed you. What’re you doin’ here?”

She smirked. “I was gonna ask you the same thing. What you listenin’ to?”

Tilting my head in Cornwall’s direction, I averted Sadie’s focus to the pier.

“Both Rose and Cornwall are in town.”

Her eyes widened at the news. “The hell? Ah, shit.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It sounds like they’re teamin’ up against Dutch. They both want him dead.

Sadie shook her head, muttering to herself. “...Son-of-a-bitch. Why is that we can’t take one step without Atticus or his gang showin’ up?”

“I don’t know, but we gotta let Dutch know what’s goin’ on. C’mon, we should head back to camp...before either of them figures out we’re here.”

Mrs. Adler followed me. “I’m right behind you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

BEAVER HOLLOW

Storming back into camp, Sadie got to work on delivering the provisions to Pearson while I hurried over to Dutch and Micah, admittedly a bit shaken now that I knew Atticus was nearby.

At first, I dismissed Micah’s idea of there bein’ a rat in the gang, but after seeing how quickly Rose seemed to move -- especially when it came to interfering with our plans -- I couldn’t help but concede that he might’ve had a point.

Who would sell us out like that? I mean, sure, not everyone in the gang always saw eye-to-eye with Dutch, but I highly doubted any of them would go as far as to betrayin’ us.

It couldn’t be Marston. Dutch was like a father to him, same as me. It couldn’t be Williamson either. He practically worshipped the man. And it sure as hell weren’t Eddie. This gang was the closest thing to a family he had left. He wouldn’t risk our lives like that.

I supposed that’d be another question for another time. Right now, I just needed to inform Dutch on what the hell was happening between Atticus and Cornwall, and hopefully, convince him to lay low.

“Dutch!” I called out, approaching his tent.

The man stepped out from the shade and walked up to me, eager to see if I had learned anything as Micah tagged along.

“Arthur! There you are. Eddie said you was lookin’ for a tip in Annesburg. You find anything useful?”

I hesitated. “...Well, yes, but--”

“--Let’s hear it, then!”

I breezed through the subject, wantin’ to get straight to the point. “...There’s gonna be a stagecoach comin’ from West Elizabeth in two days. I dunno what’s in it, but apparently it’s gonna be under heavy guard. Must be something valuable.”

Dutch picked up on my anxious tone. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I stuttered for a moment, unsure of how to deliver the news. “...This stagecoach belongs to Leviticus Cornwall, Dutch. He’s in town. And so is Atticus. They’re both here.”

The spark in the other man’s gaze instantly vanished at that and I could see his brow crinkling in anger, leadin’ me to worry about how he was gonna react.

“...Is that so?” He questioned darkly, his jaw clenching.

“Unfortunately.” I confirmed. “I saw ‘em with my own two eyes. They wanna kill you, Dutch. It’s what they said.”

Glancing at Micah for a second as he processed the situation, Dutch nodded in an assured manner before turnin’ back to me, clearly not taking this as seriously as I expected him to.

“Then I guess we’re gonna be visiting an old friend,” he said with a grin. “You said the coach arrives in two days?”

An irritated sigh escaped me. “We can’t be robbin’ no Leviticus Cornwall stagecoach, Dutch!”

“Why not?”

I spread my arms out, gesturing to the entire camp. “We have enough attention on us already! We rob someone as big as Leviticus, and all we’ll be doing is signing our death warrant. If we wanna leave this country, we gotta do it as quietly as possible.”

Micah hopped into the conversation, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Oh, what’s happened to you, Morgan? I thought you was a tough boy. Not one of those...gentlemen...trying to protect his ridin’ clothes. But now look at you. You’ve turned yella.”

He chuckled, lookin’ at Dutch. “It’s like I said, boss. That Ryan boy is makin’ him soft.”

I gritted my teeth in annoyance. “All I know is that we’ve lost three of our men in no less than a few weeks. Hosea, Lenny, Strauss -- we keep goin’ on like this and I guarantee we’re gonna lose more.”

Micah put a hand on Dutch’s shoulder. “No, no, no, no. If we wanna leave this country, see, we gotta make a whole lotta noise, Dutch. Think of it as a smoke bomb. While everyone else is all confused and distracted by this mayhem, we’ll just slip away as if nothing happened! Easy as that.”

I glowered at him. “You’re a fool if you think that, Bell. Dutch?”

Staring at the ground in concentration, Dutch considered his options while the two of us waited for a decision, already somewhat suspicious of whose advice he was gonna go with.

I knew Dutch and Leviticus had a bad history with each other -- and truth be told, I wasn’t fond of the man neither -- but I never thought he’d be so reckless as to consider Micah’s plan of robbing the stagecoach.

Lord only knew how many men would be guardin’ it. And on top of that, we didn’t even know what the coach was goddamned carrying in the first place! The cargo might’ve been valuable to Cornwall, but was it valuable to us? As far as I was concerned, it could’ve been worth shit. But clearly, that didn’t matter to Dutch. All he cared about right now was takin’ revenge on those he hated, and part of me feared I was slowly makin’ my way onto that list.

I just prayed he would come to his senses soon. For all our sakes.

“Get ready, boys...” Dutch announced, causin’ me to tilt my head in disappointment as he smiled deviously.

“...We’re gonna be rich.”


	29. For Whom the Bell Tolls

From Arthur’s POV

TWO DAYS LATER, AFTERNOON

BEAVER HOLLOW

Striding across the camp, I quickly paced in Eddie’s direction with my rifle danglin’ off my back as I pondered the best way to approach this robbery, letting out a quiet sigh.

This had to be one of the most reckless ideas Dutch ever had in my twenty years of knowin’ him, and if I was being honest, the thought of running away with Eddie was looking better and better by the minute.

Dutch meant everything to me, it was true. He, John, and Eddie were really the only ones left who I considered to be family -- and despite how much the first two might’ve annoyed me sometimes -- the last thing I wanted was to leave ‘em behind.

I mean, I would’ve been dead if it weren’t for Dutch comin’ to my rescue when I was just a boy. He saved me. Educated me. Gave me a new life. But now...part of me feared he was gonna be the reason I’d lose that life again, and...normally, I wouldn’t care. But with Eddie in my family now, I knew I couldn’t leave that boy alone. I couldn’t get killed.

It was just because of my goddamned loyalty and stupidity that I refused to desert the gang. It was my own conscience that was holdin’ me back, but I knew that if I wanted to keep myself and Eddie alive, we wouldn’t be able to stay here any longer. We would have to run the second we got the chance, and never look back.

Walkin’ up to Eddie, I found the pianist sitting on a wooden crate next to Jack as he helped the kid read a storybook, his finger steadily inching across the page while Jack slowly mouthed out the words.

“...and the wolf guarded the injured deer as his f-fearsome fangs quickly scared...the other beasts away.”

The pianist turned the page, encouraging him to continue. “Good. Go on.”

Jack tilted his head in a puzzled manner. “Wait, I’m confused. Why would a wolf protect a deer?”

Eddie smiled warmly at the kid and glanced in my direction, his eyes twinkling with an affectionate spark.

“Well, perhaps some wolves aren’t as bad as they appear.”

Following Eddie’s gaze, Jack suddenly noticed my presence and perked his head up in excitement, pointing to the book.

“Uncle Arthur!” He greeted. “I finished another chapter today!”

I stepped closer to them and knelt in front of Jack, praising the boy.

“That’s great, Jack. You’re learnin’ fast. How you like reading now?”

He thought for a second. “It’s still kind of hard, but it’s more fun now. D’you wanna read with us, Uncle Arthur?”

An apologetic sigh escaped me. “Ah, I’d love to...but I’m afraid I got a job do to at the moment. Same with Eddie.”

He lowered his head out of disappointment. “Oh, okay. Maybe next time?”

I nodded. “Maybe next time.”

“Great! I’ll make some necklaces for both of you. But right now, I have to find momma. Bye Uncle Eddie. Bye Uncle Arthur.”

Hopping off the crate, Jack grabbed his book and scurried off to Abigail who was sitting in her tent before excitedly callin’ for her attention, leaving me and Eddie alone.

The kid seemed to be doin’ okay despite all that was going on -- probably because John and Abigail were sheltering him from it -- and I had to admit, it was nice to see some form of innocence still wandering around the camp. Things had gotten too bloody and brutal in the outside world recently, that it warmed this old outlaw’s heart to be near someone like Jack.

I imagined it wouldn’t last for much longer though. I knew Marston shared Eddie’s ideas of leavin’ the gang -- and considering the direction Dutch was headin’ at the moment -- it wouldn’t have surprised me if he went through with those plans.

I just prayed John knew what he was doing. It was hard enough when the gang lost Lenny and Hosea, but if I had to watch a person as young as Jack fall at the hands o’ those monsters...

...I didn’t know how I’d deal with it.

Slowly standing up from the crate, Eddie took one last look at Jack before solemnly returning to reality and bringin’ his attention to me, his eyes filled with dread.

“...Is it time?” He asked, noticing the weapon on my back.

“...Yeah.” I replied, lettin’ out a discouraged breath.

Eddie nodded in understanding and picked up his own rifle, slinging the firearm around his shoulder.

“Then we should get going. Come on.”

Walkin’ side-by-side to our horses, the two of us hurriedly made our way outta camp before mounting up and galloping off into the woods, eager to get this robbery over with as we bolted past the trees.

“So,” Eddie started, ridin’ in front of me, “what do we know about this stagecoach?”

I scoffed. “Hardly anything. Only that it belongs to Leviticus Cornwall, and apparently, has somethin’ mighty valuable in it. He’s sent a whole lotta guards to keep it safe. Dunno what it is, though.”

The boy was quiet for a second. “...Leviticus Cornwall. I’ve heard Dutch mention that name before -- in a rather hostile tone, actually -- but I’ve never seen the man for myself. Who is he?”

I lightly snapped the reins. “He’s an oil man. Quite a big one, too. And Dutch...well, he’s got quite a history with him. We robbed one of his trains up near Branite Pass a couple o’ months ago, y’see. Robbed a stagecoach in Rhodes, too -- though that was more Uncle’s idea. And now, it looks like we’ll be hittin’ another one.”

Eddie quirked a brow. “And you think this is a good idea?”

I loosely shook my head. “No. Truth be told, I think it’s one of the worst ideas we’ve had in a while. You ask me, I think we should lie low. Rob folk that no one cares about. But we rob someone as big as Leviticus Cornwall, and I guarantee it’s gonna ruin us more than Blackwater did.”

The pianist seemed surprised at the thought. “You think?”

“Think about it,” I explained. “Back in Blackwater, we only had the law to worry about, and our bounty wasn’t nearly as big as it is now. But these days, we got every Pinkerton in America lookin’ for us, Cornwall’s funding them, and Atticus wants to burn our entire camp to the ground. There’s also the fact that Atticus already knows Dutch is in this area. The minute we hit this stagecoach...it’s gonna be like lightin’ a beacon in the dark. Everyone’s gonna know we’re here.”

Eddie rode across a bridge, his horse’s hooves clacking on the wooden surface. “And there’s no way to talk Dutch out of this?”

I sighed heavily. “Oh, I’ve tried. Believe me. But...my words always seem to fall on deaf ears with that man.”

The boy reluctantly agreed. “Yes...it seems Micah’s voice is the only one Dutch actually listens to nowadays. Why he listens to him is beyond me, but...anyways. Tell me, Arthur, have you...thought about what we discussed? About leaving the gang?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I still don’t like it, but the more Dutch loses his way, the more I’m startin’ to think it’s our only option. If we wanna stay alive, that is. I just don’t know where we’d even run off to.”

Eddie came up with an idea. “Maybe we could go back to England.”

“England?” I repeated. “You think life would be better for us there?”

“Well, there’d be more civilization, so it wouldn’t exactly be the ideal environment for you, but we’d be out of the country and overseas. It could give us a fresh start.”

I still wasn’t sure. “...I guess.”

Eddie instantly picked up on my tone. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I know this...isn’t an easy decision to make.”

“Well...if I’m being honest, at this point, I’d rather be in a safe place with you than riskin’ my neck for a Dutch I don’t even know anymore. I ain’t givin’ up on him just yet, but that old man is destroying himself, and everyone in the gang knows it. But...we can talk more about this later. Right now,” I picked up my pace, “let’s just rob us a coach, shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE ANNESBURG

Crouching in the tall grass, Eddie and I waited silently beside the road as we used the shady trees to shield ourselves, keepin’ a close eye out for the stagecoach.

I didn’t know exactly how many men were gonna be guarding this damned thing, or what we were even gonna earn from this robbery, but I figured the best way to approach this would be an ambush.

After all, it was just me and Eddie against what would probably be a dozen guards. We didn’t have the luxury of attempting to stop them with intimidation. If even one of them decided to grow a backbone and shoot at us, both of us would be dead immediately. We’d probably just have to shoot them on sight.

I only hoped this would be worth all the trouble.

“...So,” Eddie whispered, “have any idea how we’re gonna rob this stagecoach?”

I adjusted my binoculars, stayin’ low in the bushes. “Well, there’s no way the two of us are gonna be able to fight that many men on our own. I’m thinkin’ we’ll have to kill them as soon as they show up. Take ‘em by surprise while their guard’s still down.”

A look of uncertainty spread across the pianist’s face. “Kill them in cold blood? Are you sure, Arthur?”

I put the binoculars down and looked at Eddie, giving him an apologetic expression.

“I know, but we don’t have a choice, Eddie. We gotta do it this way. Otherwise, neither of us is walkin’ outta here alive.”

Despite still showing signs of reluctance, the boy went along with my plan and got into position, pickin’ up his rifle from the ground as he began to wander away.

“...O-Okay. I understand. In that case, I’m gonna go the other side. That way, we can hit them from both directions.”

“Alright,” I agreed. “Remember, shoot them the minute you see my signal. I’ll flash some light your way to let you know when it’s time. Be careful.”

Eddie pulled his bandana up. “The same goes for you.”

Sneaking across the road like a little mouse, Eddie hurriedly made his way into the gatherin’ of trees on the other side and hid behind a thick trunk, peeking out every once in a while to see if anyone was coming.

Judging by the lack of fresh tracks in the dirt, I assumed that no stagecoaches had been through here just yet, and luckily for us, the roads in this area were pretty quiet.

Most of the people here were too busy blowin’ up the mines in Annesburg to spend much time wandering about, and considering the absence of any good meat in Roanoke Ridge, I doubted we’d run into any lone hunters out here either.

I mean, we’d already seen how sickly the animals in this region were. If anyone was gonna do some hunting, my guess was they’d probably travel further west or south. Only thing worth shooting up north was the people...and I already had a few faces in mind.

It was just gettin’ to them that’d be the tricky part.

Breakin’ my train of thought, the distant sound of men chattering and horses neighing reached my ears as I quickly exchanged looks with Eddie, the both of us makin’ ourselves scarce while we waited for the coach to roll into position.

From what I could see, it looked like there was about ten men protecting the vehicle including the drivers, and they were all armed to the teeth just like I expected.

Some of them were clearly Cornwall’s employees -- dressed head-to-toe in the itchiest lookin’ fabrics with flat-caps on top -- while the more conspicuous ones were most-likely Atticus’ boys.

So far, it didn’t seem like any of ‘em had noticed us just yet, and with the speed their coach was traveling at, I assumed that they was in quite a hurry. We’d have to hit them hard, and we’d have to hit them fast.

Now was our chance.

Pulling up my bandana, I cocked my rifle and eagerly waited for the precise moment to strike as the stagecoach approached us, its wheels shaking up and down on the bumpy road while the horses huffed heavily due to fatigue.

I wanted to make sure I had a completely clear shot of the driver just so the horses wouldn’t run off when we started firing, and I also wanted them to be far enough that the guards behind the vehicle wouldn’t be able to shoot back at us in time.

It was gonna be a tricky job to pull off, for sure, but if Dutch was right about this robbery, and the cargo was really worth the risk, then this money would be more than enough to keep us fed for a long time.

Then again though, there was always the chance...that it wouldn’t be.

Tiltin’ my rifle slightly, I reflected a bit of sunlight off the frame and flashed it in Eddie’s direction, silently signaling him to get to work.

Without even a moment’s notice, both the pianist and I instantly started firing into the crowd relentlessly and shot one bullet after another, causin’ the horses to rear in panic as their riders frantically glanced around in confusion before getting blasted in the head, their blood splattering all over the stagecoach’s walls.

“What the hell--?!” One of them shouted, only to receive a bullet in the chest from Eddie.

“Son of a bitch!” The driver yelled, practically flogging the horses as he fled the scene. 

Before he could run off though, I immediately aimed my gun at him and fired an array of ammo in his direction, makin’ extra sure that he wouldn’t be able to ride away with all the cargo as he collapsed from the driver’s seat.

“Goddammit!” Another guard exclaimed, desperately tryin’ to pinpoint our location as they blindly rode around in circles. “Keep the coach safe! We’re bein’ robbed--!”

A bullet hit him in the shoulder, leading the man yelp in agony as he clutched his wound and toppled from his saddle, tumblin’ onto the dirt below.

“Where the fuck are they?!” The others called out, getting lost in the gun smoke.

Reloading his rifle, Eddie fell silent for a brief moment as I carried on the fight and gunned down any remaining guards, causing dirt to go flyin’ everywhere with the amount of bullets I was shooting and with how much the horses were trampling all over the chaotic scene.

“They gotta be around here somewh--”

Resuming his assault, Eddie instantly got back to work once his gun was ready and didn’t spare a single bullet as the two of us flattened the entire entourage with a storm of ammunition, turning the road into a newfound cemetery.

By this point, it didn’t look like there was anyone left. All the guards were lyin’ on the ground in puddles of their own blood along with bullet holes and hoofmarks in the dirt as the smoke finally began to clear out, allowin’ us to see things better.

Thankfully, the stagecoach appeared to be intact -- aside from the shattered windows -- and judging by the material of the door, I didn’t think it’d be too hard to break into...but we’d have to move fast.

If there was anyone in the surrounding areas, then it was highly-likely that they just heard the gunfire from all the commotion, and I had no doubts that the law would be here soon. This was our only opportunity.

Rushin’ outta our hiding spots, Eddie and I quickly put our weapons away as we stepped over the corpses, eager to see what was inside the stagecoach.

“You okay?” I asked the boy, lookin’ him over.

“Yeah,” he answered, slightly outta breath. “What about you?”

“I’m good. Search the bodies, will you? I’m gonna open the door and get whatever’s inside.”

Eddie nodded. “Alright, but try to hurry. Who knows how many people heard that?”

Flippin’ my rifle around, I slammed the butt against the lock a few times with a series of metallic bangs, eventually breaking the mechanism off as the door loosely swung open.

It was pretty dark on the inside and I couldn’t see much with the sun glarin’ in my face, but once I climbed through the tight door and squeezed into the small space, I realized it actually wasn’t dark at all...

...It was just empty.

“...The hell...?” I muttered under my breath, digging through the coach’s seats.

Contrary to the piles of lockboxes and chests and cash I was expecting, it didn’t even look like there was a speck of dust in this goddamned stagecoach. Only thing occupying the seats was shards of glass from the broken windows, and even then the vehicle still felt pretty empty.

Where was the cargo?

“Find anything yet?” Eddie questioned.

I took one last look under the seats, hittin’ my hand against the coach’s wall in frustration.

“There’s nothin’ here!”

The boy paused. “What--? Are you sure?”

“I checked everywhere,” I confirmed, circling around the stagecoach. “But...hang on. Maybe it’s in the back. In the meantime, you keep searchin’ the bodies. They might have some money on them.”

Taking my revolver out, I hastily fired a bullet at the box hangin’ off the coach’s rear and damn-near tore the lid off, only to find nothing but a few cans of food and some cigarettes inside.

“...This can’t be right...!” I whispered through gritted teeth. “Leviticus said he doubled the security for this damned thing. Well, what the hell were they protecting? There ain’t shit in here...!”

“Arthur!” Eddie suddenly called out, tearin’ my attention away from the loot. “One of them is still alive!”

Whipping around in bewilderment, I decided to leave the vehicle alone for now and stormed over to Eddie who had his foot planted on one of the guards’ chest, both of us towerin’ over him like a pair of hungry lions.

“He still breathing?” I asked.

Eddie shrugged, observing the man. “Barely. He’s slipping away quickly, but you should still have time to ask him anything you want.”

“Oh, this son-of-a-bitch will talk...”

Takin’ matters into my own hands, I crouched down and grabbed the man’s collar with an iron grip before hoisting him off the ground, causing him to start shaking.

“Where’s the money?!” I demanded.

The guard’s voice heightened with fear.

“W-What?! What money?”

My jaw clenched in annoyance. “The money y’all are protecting -- what else would I be talkin’ about?”

That didn’t seem to clarify things at all, and the other man only continued to whimper.

“...Look, th-there is no money...!”

I fell silent in response and came to a sudden stop, furrowing my brows in confusion as a pang of anxiety hit me.

“...What...?” I said. “What d’you mean there’s no money? What the hell was the point of sendin’ all these men if there ain’t nothing to protect? Answer me, goddammit!”

He coughed a few times, tryin’ to speak through the blood gathering in his mouth.

“You’re...you’re some of Dutch’s boys...ain’t you? That fella...he said you’d try to rob this coach, so Leviticus...d-delayed...the delivery. Decided to bring the shipment on a different one, and use this coach as bait...to lure you out...”

“Feller?” I pointed out. “What feller? You mean Atticus Rose?”

The guard weakly shook his head, clearly wishin’ he was dead already.

“No...not him. I mean...the fella from your gang...”

My blood turned ice-cold at that, and I could’ve sworn my brain stopped functioning for a second.

What the hell did he just say?

“...Our gang...?” I breathed out in disbelief. The guard nodded.

“Yeah...at least, I-I think he’s one of yours.”

I tightened my grip on his shirt, causin’ my knuckles to turn white.

“Who is he?! What’s his name? Say something!”

“I...I don’t know his name...!” The man stammered. “H-He never told us!”

“Well, what’s he look like?”

He frantically blurted out a description. “U-Um...blond! Long hair! Has a m-mustache! Wears a white hat, too! That’s all I know! I swear!”

Freezing with realization, Eddie’s expression turned into stone at that and he glanced down at me, his wild, green eyes widened with a sense of anger and betrayal.

“...Micah.”

Blankly starin’ at the ground in defeat, I mindlessly loosened my hold on the guard’s shirt and retreated into my own thoughts, suddenly realizing how obvious it had been all along.

I didn’t wanna believe what the man was saying, but...the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. It explained so much.

It explained why Micah was always tryin’ to stay on Dutch’s good side. Why he pushed anyone away who might’ve been smart enough to expose him, and why he never really seemed to care when someone in the gang was killed. It was ‘cause...it was all his fault. It was his doing.

He was the one who told Atticus about our plans to rob the bank in Saint Dennis. He was the reason Rodrick was able to corner us on the riverboat. He was responsible for the deaths of Hosea, Lenny, possibly Strauss, and the situation that the rest of us were in right now.

All our suffering, all our losses -- every goddamned struggle we had been through these past couple of months -- it was because of Micah.

And like the big brute I was, I had been too stupid to see it.

“Arthur?” Eddie said, bringin’ me outta my head.

Ignorin’ the boy, I dropped the dead guard onto the ground and hurriedly stormed over to my horse, wanting to get back to camp immediately.

“That bastard...” I cursed, climbin’ onto my saddle. “I’ll kill him with my own, two hands! C’mon! We gotta go tell Dutch! Who knows what other secrets that rat has spilled? If Atticus already knows we’re in this area, then there’s a good chance he knows our location, too.”

“W-Wait! Arthur!” Eddie exclaimed, forcing me to calm down for a minute. “Just hold on. How are we supposed to tell him this? It’s not like we have any proof, and we just killed our only witness.”

I sighed in a regretful tone, hangin’ my head low.

“I...I don’t know,” I admitted. “Hell, I don’t even know if Dutch’ll listen to me. But...maybe, just maybe he ain’t completely lost. If the old Dutch is still in there somewhere, I know he won’t be able to ignore this.”

Eddie mounted his own horse and joined me, trotting to my side.

“Then let’s hope he is. But we need to be prepared, Arthur. If Dutch doesn’t listen to you, o-or if things go wrong -- we need to run. Far away. No hesitation. Otherwise, we’re dead men.”

I nodded in agreement, finally comin’ to terms with the end that we had always been powerless to stop.

“...You’re right,” I replied, my voice softer than I expected. “You’re right. As much as I hate to say it, this whole thing...it’s over. ...We’ve spent our whole lives running, stealing, cheating, killing...but it’s done now. This world...it don’t want us no more. The age of gangs and outlaws...is passed.” I gave Eddie a grim expression. “...Our time’s up.”


	30. The Collapse

From Arthur’s POV

BEAVER HOLLOW

Bolting back to camp, Eddie and I powered through the roads like there was no tomorrow as we rode towards Beaver Hollow with the speed of a cheetah, completely forgettin’ about the stagecoach or the loot that was supposed to be in it.

At the moment, the thoughts in my head were rushin’ even faster than I was forcing my horse to go, and with every agonizing second that passed, the more my heart pounded in my chest.

Who knew what the hell Atticus was planning? If he and Cornwall stationed that many guards to protect a single stagecoach -- a trap that was meant to just capture me and Eddie alone -- I didn’t even wanna think about what he had in mind for the rest of the gang.

There was no doubt Atticus knew where our camp was -- all thanks to Micah -- and I just hoped we would be able to get to Dutch before anything else happened.

Our time may have been comin’ to an end...but I sure as hell refused to go down without a fight.

“...Arthur!” Eddie suddenly exclaimed in an alarmed tone, his voice shaking as he pointed to the sky. “...L-Look...!”

Bringin’ my attention to the top of the tree line, I felt the color drain from my face when I realized there was a monstrous cloud of smoke coming straight from our camp, its ghostly texture tinted with an orange glow as bright red sparks danced wildly around it.

There was no way in hell a simple campfire coulda produced that much smoke, and considerin’ the fact that I wasn’t at Dutch’s side to protect him right now, I could’ve only assumed that the gang had been attacked.

This was the perfect opportunity, after all. Our gang’s leader had been left alone with the very same rat who drove us into this hellhole in the first place, and without me or Hosea to keep the camp safe, Dutch was nothin’ more than a target to shoot.

I just hoped they weren’t all dead already. Our gang was vulnerable enough as is, and to be ambushed by someone like Atticus Rose...well, it didn’t leave much chance for survival.

We was at the end of our rope, here. We had done our worst, and tried our best, but now...it was finally time to face reality.

It was time for me to be a goddamned man, and protect the people I loved.

Skiddin’ to a stop, my horse’s hooves dug deep into the dirt below as I quickly hopped off and hurried back into camp, not wasting a single second while Eddie followed me from behind.

All around me, I could see fresh corpses littering the ground with their jaws hangin’ open as smoke rose from the barrels of their guns, and numerous flies began gathering on their flesh.

The stench of gunpowder and death filled my nose and caused me to grimace, my face twistin’ in disgust as I investigated the gruesome scene.

So far, I didn’t see anyone I knew buried in the pile of bodies -- and most of the casualties appeared to be from Atticus’ side -- but the situation still looked more than dire in the camp. In fact, it was downright nightmarish.

There were flames still ragin’ from what appeared to have been a hellish fight, many of the tents and wagons had been destroyed, a handful of our mounts had been slaughtered, and it looked like Dutch’s donation box had been smashed to pieces.

...Jesus Christ. What happened here?

Slowin’ down our pace a bit, Eddie and I cautiously ventured deeper into the ruined camp as the two of us gazed around in pure horror, unable to believe that this was the same place we left behind just an hour ago.

Most of our belongings had been broken beyond repair, and considering how we already had lawmen searchin’ for us in the rest of the states, I didn’t know where on Earth Dutch was planning to run to after this.

It was a big country, sure...but its people hadn’t forgotten us nearly as much as we hoped they would. Our faces were plastered on every building from here to Blackwater, and now that Atticus was teamed up with Cornwall, I doubted we’d have a very easy time escapin’ from Roanoke Ridge.

If we managed to escape at all.

“...Oh!” A brash voice suddenly blurted out sarcastically, grabbin’ my attention. “The hero returns!”

Snappin’ my head to the side, I turned towards the sound and squinted in the fire’s brazen light, only to see the rat himself.

“Micah!” I barked, clenching my fists. “What the hell happened here?”

The crooked man scoffed. “I thought you knew. After all, it was your friend Mr. Kingsley who caused this.”

I glowered at Micah, my voice lowering to an enraged whisper. “That man ain’t no friend of mine, and neither are you.”

“Calm yourself, woman,” he retorted. “Ain’t no point in denyin’ the truth. We all know what’s really going on, and so does Dutch.”

I shook my head in confusion, my words damn near colliding with each other due to how fast I was speaking. “What’re you talkin’ about--? Y’know what, forget it. Where is Dutch?”

A third person joined in, interrupting our conversation.

“Over here, Arthur.”

Gazin’ behind Micah’s shoulder, I spotted a furious Dutch sauntering in our direction as he walked past all the lifeless bodies surrounding our blazing camp, his eyes devoid of any compassion or empathy, and his brows furrowed in anger.

Contrary to the shocked state I expected to find him in, Dutch only appeared to be consumed by rage alone, and I could almost hear his teeth grindin’ in his mouth with how tightly he was clenching his jaw.

There wasn’t a hint of sorrow, or remorse, or grief in his expression. Instead, all I saw was a burning desire for revenge, and I had a bad feelin’ he was about to take it out on us. I just hoped I’d be able to talk some sense into him.

“Dutch!” I called out, rushin’ over to the man.

He simply glared at me in response.

“Arthur,” he said lowly, “where...have you been?” 

I glanced back at Eddie, makin’ sure the boy was behind me.

“We was robbin’ that stagecoach,” I replied. “Just like you wanted us to.”

Dutch let out a frustrated breath. “Well, I hope it was worth it. That crazy bastard Rodrick ambushed the camp while you was away. Killed poor Kieran in the process, too. Strauss is also dead, accordin’ to him. As for everyone else...” he looked around the mini battlefield, “...they’re alive, but Mary-Beth, Swanson, Uncle, and Pearson are all missing. Vanished in the middle o’ the fight.”

I fell silent at the news, suddenly realizin’ how much smaller our gang was.

“Oh, Christ...” I cursed, “were they captured?”

“I don’t think so,” Dutch denied. “I think they ran off. Used the chaos as an opening to desert us. Goddamn cowards!”

Micah jumped back into the conversation, crossin’ his arms in an accusatory manner. “I’m just surprised you didn’t take off with them, Morgan. Y’know, considerin’ who you’ve got in your company.”

I sighed in annoyance, scowling at the sly man.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

Dutch answered in his place, throwin’ his hands up out of anger. “Someone had to tell Rodrick where our camp was, Arthur! Someone had to let him know when you’d be chasin’ after that stagecoach, so you could run away while they attacked the rest of us!”

A dreadful realization thought hit me.

“Wait...” I said quietly, “...you think I’m the rat?”

The older man shook his head, steadily bringin’ his attention to the boy behind me. “No. Not you.”

Glancing back and forth between Dutch and Eddie, my eyes widened in fear once I understood what he was saying, and I immediately held a protective arm in front of the boy, warnin’ the others to stay back just as Eddie went for his holster.

“Now, hold on, Dutch,” I insisted, blocking his way. “Eddie ain’t the rat! He’s--”

But Dutch wouldn’t hear it.

“Step aside, son!” He demanded, his tone nearly feral at this point. “I know how you feel about him, but we’ve been fallin’ apart ever since I allowed that boy inside our gang. He’s usin’ you! He’s usin’ all of us! Can’t you see that?! We need to think about survival here. It’s time for him to go!”

I stayed in place and guarded Eddie like a brick wall, absolutely refusin’ to move.

“Just listen to me, goddammit!” I exclaimed, desperately tryin’ to get through Dutch’s thick skull. “The stagecoach was a trap! There weren’t no money inside. Atticus set us up. He knew we would try to rob it, and that’s why he gave Cornwall the extra security. They wanted to capture us, Dutch! Both of us! Eddie ain’t the rat, and you know it. I know it!”

Dutch remained unswayed. “Then who is?”

I gestured to Micah. “Why don’t you ask the man who’s been in your ear ever since Hosea died?”

The older man gazed at his friend and gave him a puzzled look, dismissing the idea.

“Micah,” Dutch questioned, clearly not buyin’ it. “Really. He has been loyal to me this whole time, Arthur. He is one o’ the few people left in this gang who still has faith! Him, Javier, and Bill are the only ones who have yet to turn their backs on me!”

“Loyal?” I fired back, ignoring his statement. “Eddie and I interrogated one of the guards, Dutch! He told us himself that Micah has been helpin’ them out! That rat is the reason we’re in this nightmare of a situation!”

Micah rolled his eyes at the accusation and strolled next to Dutch, almost laughin’ at how much more of an advantage he had over me.

“Really, cowpoke...?” He countered. “A guard told you I was the rat? That’s the best you can come up with? Alright, then, big guy. Where is this guard, hmm? ...Dead?”

I was silent in response, leadin’ Micah to let out a victorious chuckle.

“Yeah. Thought so.”

Stepping in between me and Micah, Dutch dragged a hand down his face before sending a glare in Eddie’s direction, his expression stiff with both a sense of betrayal and retribution.

The manner in which he carried himself frightened me, if I was bein’ honest. Dutch no longer acted like the same guardian so many of us had grown to love, and instead, stormed around like a mad tyrant who wasn’t gettin’ his way.

I knew something about him changed the minute we lost Hosea back at Shady Belle -- and I doubted we’d ever find a way to get the old Dutch back -- but the little boy in me still couldn’t believe that this was the same man I once saw as a father.

He was just so different. So deranged. So deluded. Not at all like the man I grew up with.

I mean, Dutch still hated law and order as much as he did twenty years ago, but the difference today was, he had become the very thing he claimed to fight against.

He preached about livin’ in a free society, yet caged us behind invisible bars called “faith” and “loyalty.” He damned corrupt businessmen like Leviticus for robbing people, yet reveled in the money he pried from a dead man’s hands.

He called me son...yet treated me like a complete stranger.

And the worst part was: I didn’t even think he realized it.

Refusin’ to back down, Dutch got right in my face and pulled out his gun, holdin’ the weapon at his side before giving me one last order.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” he apologized flatly, his voice gradually rising with insanity, “but if we wanna survive, we gotta do what’s necessary. If we have to steal, then we’ll steal. If we have to run, then we’ll run. If we have to kill, then we’ll kill. We will do...whatever it, goddamn, takes. And right now, it requires taking Mister Ryan’s life!”

Dutch aimed the revolver straight at my head and cocked it, his hand shaking with rage. “So for the last time...step aside, son!”

I held my ground and stayed in place, subtly reachin’ for my pistol as I desperately tried to recognize the man standing in front of me.

“...You’ll have to kill me, first.” I stated, admittedly heartbroken that Dutch would pull a gun on me.

“Don’t make me do this, Arthur...” he warned darkly, his finger dangerously close to the trigger.

But before he could do anything else, John threw himself into this pit of chaos and intervened, aimin’ his own rifle at Dutch while Abigail and Jack stayed behind.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Dutch?” Marston scolded angrily, rushin’ to my side. “Do you even see what you’re doing?”

The outlaw whipped out his second revolver and pointed it at John, holdin’ both of us at gunpoint as Micah came to Dutch’s defense.

“I am doing what must be done, John!” Dutch yelled, his eyes wide with fury. “Now stay outta this! This is about Mister Ryan, and Mister Ryan alone!”

Marston shook his head. “No! This is about you losin’ your goddamned mind! Eddie saved my son’s life, Dutch. Arthur’s, too. I ain’t gonna let you murder him in cold blood. No matter how close we are!”

To my surprise, the other man seemed truly shocked at the response and tightened his grip on his guns, damn-near erupting with how outraged he was.

“How you two fooled me over all these years...” Dutch whispered, his voice rumbling like magma in a volcano. “I raised you as sons! Goddamn...SNAKES!”

The sound of someone cocking a shotgun reached my ears and I peeked outta the corner of my eye, only to see Miss Grimshaw joining me while Javier and Bill stood with Dutch.

“Put those guns down, Dutch!” Susan warned, her temperament resembling that of a mother bear protectin’ her cubs. 

There was a newfound tension growing in the camp, and part of me dreaded to see what would finally ignite the flame.

“What is wrong with you all?” Williamson blamed, appearing genuinely disappointed in us. “I thought better of you! Our gang needs to stick together if we wanna survive. This ain’t how we do things here. This ain’t brotherly!”

Sadie aimed her rifle at them, her behavior relentless as always. “Good thing I ain’t your goddamn brother, then! No one’ll ever replace my Jake, but I sure as shit ain’t lettin’ you take my closest friends from me!”

Javier admonished us. “Come on...what’s happened to you people? I stuck with this gang because it felt like a family. But now, you’ve all become just like the O’Driscolls. Hell, worse. You’re traitors!”

“Bill, Javier,” I said, “think for yourselves! Take a look around you!”

Steppin’ out of hiding, Eddie walked up to my side and unholstered his weapons, glaring at Micah with a level of hatred I didn’t know he contained.

“After everything I’ve done for this gang...” he berated, his tone unusually dark. “I should’ve killed you the moment I laid eyes on you!”

“They’re lying, Dutch,” Micah insisted, practically hissing in his ear. “Lying!”

“Shut your goddamned mouth, Micah!” I snapped, turnin’ to the man who used to be my father. “All them years, Dutch...for this snake...?!”

“It’s done, Arthur!” He growled, failing to see reason. “No more! Lay down your guns...and let me do...what must be done!”

Without any warning, a stray bullet suddenly fired at us outta nowhere and hit Miss Grimshaw directly in the stomach, causin’ her to collapse on the spot while the rest of us whirled around in panic.

“Oh, sunshine!” Rodrick bellowed from inside the woods. “Miss me?”

“Goddammit!” Dutch cursed. “He’s back!”

Completely forgettin’ about the previous conflict, the entire gang immediately ducked for cover as a storm of bullets commenced within the small camp, decorating everything with holes and burns as splinters went flyin’ all over the place.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, throwin’ myself behind a wagon. Even with all the gunfire surrounding me, I could still hear Susan screaming in agony.

“Eddie!” I called out, frantically searching for him. “Are you alive?!”

To my dismay, there was no response.

I felt my heart stop.

“EDDIE!” I repeated even louder, almost feelin’ sick with worry. “Answer me, goddammit! Are you there?!”

A frail voice replied to me from a distance.

“...A-Arthur...!” 

Following the lonely voice, I looked at the other side of the camp and spotted Eddie sittin’ behind a large boulder, causing a huge wave of relief to wash over me.

That was, until I noticed his left leg had been shot.

The boy groaned in pain, clutching his bloody knee. “I...I can’t move, Arthur!”

“...Aw, crap...” I muttered. “Keep shooting, Eddie! I’m comin’ to get you!”

Drawing their fire away from me, the pianist took out his fair share of Rodrick’s men as I bolted across the camp, holdin’ onto my gun as if it were a goddamned baby.

I had no idea how the hell we was gonna get outta this, or where the hell Rodrick came from, but now that I knew for a fact where Dutch stood -- or rather, who he stood with -- I was gonna do whatever it took to keep Eddie alive.

I might’ve lost the gang, and I might’ve lost my family, but I was gonna destroy the entire goddamned world before it took Eddie from me.

Leapin’ behind a fallen horse, I used the animal as a shield and crawled through the blood-stained mud, grabbing onto clumps of hardened grass as I dragged myself through the dirt.

“I see him!” One of Rodrick’s men alerted. “He’s right there--argh!”

Shouting in pain, the man abruptly fell silent and toppled to the ground as a bullet carved its way through him, leadin’ me to jolt my head towards the source of the shot.

John reloaded his rifle from behind a tree and gave me the “all clear” sign, urgin’ me to keep going.

“I’ll keep ‘em off you, Arthur! Just get that boy outta here!”

“But what about you?” I asked. “Where’s Abigail and Jack?”

“They already escaped!” He answered. “She took Jack and rode off the minute the ambush started! I’m gon’ find them later! You just worry about yourself right now! Now go!”

Giving him a firm nod, I picked up the pace and ran like hell to the other side of the camp as Marston continued firing at Rodrick’s gang, just barely holdin’ out considering he had nothing more than a tree to protect him. Our enemies seemed to have forgotten about me, and Eddie was still shooting them from his own position, but even with their help, I could still barely see where on Earth I was going.

A thick layer of gun smoke clouded my vision everywhere I looked. And with the amount of fire that was spreadin’ all over the camp, it felt like I was walkin’ through a sea of orange fog...and the only thing I could hear was screaming.

I didn’t see Dutch, or Bill, or Javier, or Micah anywhere. Half of me assumed they had just been shot and were now lyin’ on the ground with their enemies, but the smarter half knew they had run away like the bunch o’ cowards they were.

But none of that mattered to me right now. All I cared about at the moment was findin’ Eddie, and getting that kid somewhere safe. I had been through more than enough bullshit for one day, and I certainly didn’t plan on losing the one man I loved.

I just didn’t know where we would go.

Finally reaching the boulder Eddie was using for cover, I gunned down all the enemies that were surrounding him and helped the boy up, wrappin’ his arm around my shoulder as we made our way to the mounts.

The pianist’s skin had lightened into a sickly pale color by now, and even though he had me to support him, the man still looked like he was about to crash at any minute, which that only made me panic more.

“Hold on, darling,” I encouraged, liftin’ him onto the back of my horse. “We’re almost outta this. I’m gonna get you someplace safe. Just hold on!”

Climbing onto the saddle once Eddie was in place, I barely sat down all the way before snappin’ the reins like a madman, urging my horse to run for her life as a series of bullets showered the ground behind us.

I felt like a goddamned monster for not goin’ back to get John, but if I was being perfectly honest, I didn’t know if such a thing were even possible at this point. The camp had been completely overrun by Rodrick and Cornwall’s men, and judgin’ by the lack of any horses at the hitching posts, I guessed the other gang members had also fled the horrific scene.

I didn’t have a clue where Tilly, Charles, Karen, or Sadie had run off to, and I definitely didn’t give a damn about Micah’s safety, but as far as I was concerned...our home was nothin’ but a pile of ash now.

Everything we built, everything we worked for, everything we sacrificed -- it all meant nothing now because of that rat. Jenny, Davey, Mac, Sean, Hosea, Lenny, Strauss, Susan...all of them died just for a pathetic, little snake like Micah to come along and piss on it all.

We was nothing more than a bunch of scattered cockroaches now. The Pinkertons were most-likely gonna kill us off one-by-one within a matter of days, and that was only if Atticus didn’t get to us first.

Everything was going to shit. My entire family, the only life I’d ever known...it had all suddenly been destroyed right in front of me, and the one man who could’ve prevented it from happening didn’t. Dutch didn’t.

Instead, he simply stood by and watched his throne burn, and allowed a usurper to light the flame...even when he had Hosea to see it comin’ from a mile away.

He had finally descended into a pit of utter madness, and taken leave of every single principle he ever lived his life by.

He may have survived the attack...but the Dutch I knew died a long time ago.

Even with Dutch goin’ insane however, I supposed everything wasn’t lost. Against all odds, I still managed to escape the camp with Eddie by my side. We were both alive, and -- even if I didn’t know where on Earth we were gonna go -- we still had a chance to get things back on track.

Eddie was a fighter, and so was I. We were gonna make it through this, just like I promised him, and...God willing, finally pursue the freedom we had sacrificed so much to achieve. We had come too far to fail now.

Our future was waitin’ for us somewhere out there...and I knew I’d be damned if we didn’t find it.


	31. Isolated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pretends this chapter isn’t late af*
> 
> (no but seriously thank you guys for being so patient with my lazy ass. like i said before, i hit a writer’s block and didn’t really know what to do, but i also didn’t want to rush this chapter. so again, thanks for being patient and i hope you enjoy!)

From Atticus’ POV

A WHILE LATER

LEVITICUS’ OFFICE, ANNESBURG

“The trap failed?” Leviticus exclaimed in disbelief as he read the telegram. “We had nearly a dozen men guarding that stagecoach! How on Earth did Van Der Linde’s men manage to kill them all?”

I sat near one of the factory’s windows and casually held a pocket-watch in my palm, staring vehemently at Nathaniel’s portrait which was tucked neatly inside.

“It appears that we underestimated him,” I concluded. “Dutch may be broken, and he may be deluded...but he’s far from unintelligent. No fool would be capable of evading the law for as long as he has. We can’t approach him like some common criminal.”

Cornwall tossed the telegram onto his desk in frustration and let out a sharp breath.

“Well, there must be something we can do! The question is: what? The Pinkertons can’t catch him, the bounty hunters can’t catch him, and even we’ve failed to detain him. It seems as if this man is invincible.”

“He’s not,” I corrected. “None of us are.”

Leviticus placed his hands on his hip. “Well, of course. Though, I’m afraid I’m starting to run out of ideas, Mister Rose. I paid an incredible amount of money to the Pinkertons to aid them in their search for Van Der Linde, but still -- nothing. They give me excuses instead of results. This Dutch robs me, and laughs at me. How are we supposed to capture a man who is seemingly untouchable? It’s all just a mess.”

I stood up, gently snapping the pocket-watch closed.

“Well, if I’ve learned anything from my encounters with Dutch,” I stated, “it’s that he aspires to be a modern king without any willingness to build the throne himself. He helps the poor and abandoned in exchange for their blind loyalty, and casts out those who refuse to bow to him. So perhaps, Mister Cornwall, the solution is not to take down the man himself, but rather, the men around him.”

Leviticus’s head perked up in curiosity. “The men around him, you say? Any...specific names you might be thinking of?”

I pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between my lips, lighting the tip aflame. “...There is one. His name is Arthur Morgan. I understand he’s one of the more trusted members in the gang, and also the same man who happens to be protecting the boy I’m after. I can promise you it’d benefit both of us to kill him.”

Cornwall nodded steadily in agreement. “Yes...I believe I’ve met him before. If I’m not mistaken, he was with Dutch when I ambushed them in Valentine. There’s no denying he’ll be tough to take down, but he’s only one man. We should be able to get rid of him. How do you suggest we start?”

Before I could answer, a gentle thud came from the office’s door as a third party abruptly joined the conversation, causing me and Leviticus to bring our attention to the new arrival.

“Ah,” I said calmly, recognizing their face, “Rodrick. There you are.”

Sauntering into the room with a casual sway to his step, Rodrick gave me and Mister Cornwall a toothy grin as he lay a shotgun on his shoulder, immediately frightening the businessman with the amount of blood that was staining his suit.

“Morning, Atticus,” he greeted, his injured eye making it look as if he were winking. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Leviticus mindlessly backed up out of fear and pointed a shaky finger at Rodrick, looking to me for reassurance.

“Y-You know this man?”

“He’s one of mine,” I confirmed, introducing the two of them. “Mister Kingsley, this is the man I’ve been cooperating with this past week: Mister Cornwall.”

Rodrick chuckled and stepped in front of Leviticus, getting right in the oil man’s face. “...Oh, I know who he is. Pretty bastard’s portraits are all over the goddamned place.” He looked him up-and-down, his smile disappearing. “...I think I prefer you in the paintings.”

The other man stuttered at that and huffed grumpily in response, retreating to his desk while I poured myself a drink and started to ask Kingsley a few questions.

“Rodrick, any updates on Dutch’s camp?”

The redhead leaned against a wall, resting the shotgun on the floor. “Burned it to the ground just like you ordered.”

I took a sip. “Any survivors?”

He sighed in a regrettable yet somehow sarcastic manner. “A couple. I know Dutch managed to escape, and so did a few other nobodies. As for Arthur and Eddie, I think they was runnin’ west, last I saw ‘em. Slipped away during the gunfight, but I doubt they’ll get far. Eddie was injured before they could leave.”

I fell silent due to confusion, pausing for a moment. “Arthur didn’t go with Dutch?”

Rodrick laughed, shaking his head out of amusement. “...Oh, you wouldn’t believe it, but I watched the whole thing. Dutch’s gang tore itself apart before I even got involved. Ended up turnin’ on each other. They’ve all scattered to the winds now.”

I sent an ambitious glance in Cornwall’s direction, the two of us exchanging looks. “So Eddie and Arthur are all by themselves...”

Leviticus jumped back into the conversation, his expression suddenly fueled with motivation. “...As is Van Der Linde. Now is our chance to strike, Mister Rose! If we can manage to trap those reprobates while they’re lost in the wilds, they’ll drop like flies! All our problems will be solved. We must find them as soon as possible!”

Agreeing with Mister Cornwall, I finished the contents of my drink and prepared to head out, giving Rodrick a set of instructions as I made haste for the exit.

“You’re right. Mister Kingsley, return to camp and tell everyone to pack up. I’ll meet you there shortly to explain the plan in full detail, but right now we just need everyone to gather their things. We leave first thing in the morning.”

Rodrick pushed himself off the wall, swinging the shotgun back over his shoulder.

“Sure thing, Atticus.”

Cornwall gestured to himself. “And what of me? Is there any way I can assist?”

I halted in my tracks and glanced over my shoulder, stopping just in front of the office’s door.

“Ah, yes,” I recalled, bringing my focus back to the businessman. “I almost forgot.”

Turning to Rodrick, I reached an arm out in Leviticus’ direction and gave him one final command.

“Rodrick, would you kindly do me a favor and demonstrate an outlaw’s farewell to Mister Cornwall here?”

Instantly catching on to my meaning, the maniacal man smirked and prowled closer to Leviticus, cocking his shotgun in one swift motion.

“With pleasure.”

Backing away from Kingsley, Cornwall raised a defensive hand in front of himself and stammered in fear, staring at me with bewilderment as I took my leave.

“W-Wait, what?!” He blurted out. “A-Atticus! You can’t...you can’t possibly be serious! Mister Rose, please!”

Ignoring the businessman’s pleas for mercy, I simply opened the door and stepped out as if nothing was happening, promptly returning to camp while Rodrick dealt with our “friend.”

“Mister Rose!” Cornwall called out desperately, his voice being muffled by the walls.

“MISTER ROSE!”

The door shut itself closed behind me.

“MISTER ROSE--!”

Sending the factory into a deathly silence, an ear-splitting gunshot erupted from within the office as its explosive bang thundered throughout the halls, echoing in tune with the machinery’s enslaved humming.

I never thought I would say it, but it was finally time to deal with Theodore Bishop.

That little boy had been running away from me for years on end, and now, the chance to eliminate him had revealed itself at last.

There was just one more problem I had to deal with.

I knew Mister Bishop had a relentless guardian who would raise hell if I got anywhere near him, and I knew I would have no chance of killing that boy if I didn’t get rid of his protector first.

I had to ensure that Theodore was all by himself before I did anything else.

I had to make sure there wouldn’t be any chances of failure.

I had to kill Arthur Morgan.

~~~~~~~~~~

From Arthur’s POV

ONE DAY LATER

GRIZZLIES EAST

Desolation.

That was all I could see.

Contrary to the vibrant trees and diverse wildlife that surrounded Beaver Hollow, this place had nothin’ but miles of emptiness to fill its vast space, and a nerve-numbing breeze that chilled me to the bone.

Everywhere around us, there were pale, jagged mountains dominating the white horizon, and no matter how far I traveled or how long we rode, there didn’t seem to be a single sign of civilization.

There weren’t any towns, or saloons, or inns where we could’ve taken shelter -- and I certainly hadn’t spotted any doctors who could’ve taken care of Eddie’s leg.

We were all by ourselves in the middle of this frozen hell, and there was nowhere else we could run.

Nowhere except straight into our enemies’ hands.

“...H-Hold on, Eddie.” I whispered through chattering teeth as the boy weakly leaned his body against my back. “We’ll...we’ll be safe soon. We’ll find shelter. Just hold on. You hear me?”

Barely clingin’ onto consciousness, the pianist said nothing in response and simply rested his head on my shoulder, gently wrapping an arm around my waist as we trudged through the thick blanket of snow.

It was pretty clear that Eddie wasn’t gettin’ any better with the condition his leg was in, and part of me worried he would never truly recover from the injury. I mean, he could barely stand on his own anymore. What the hell were we gonna do if Atticus or Dutch found us? How was he gonna run? How were we gonna escape?

I just didn’t know where to go from this point.

Our camp was in ruins, Dutch had run off with Micah, Eddie couldn’t walk, Atticus was closin’ in on us, and for the first time in over two decades...I no longer had a gang to call family.

The world that had raised me to become an outlaw, and turned me into a man who cared only about money, was now collapsing ‘cause of the very same foundation that built it. The America I grew up in no longer existed, and now, reality was showin’ me the consequences of everything we had done.

But I wasn’t gonna fail this time.

I wasn’t gonna be the same man who failed to save Eliza or Isaac when they needed me. I was gonna put someone else’s life first for a change, and keep Eddie safe. No matter the cost. I just needed to keep him alive.

Ridin’ a bit deeper into the relentless blizzard, I felt a sense of relief wash over me when a small cabin suddenly revealed itself in the distance, causing me to take a better look at it with my binoculars.

The cabin was located right next to the edge of a large, icy lake -- a lake that looked strangely familiar, if I was bein’ honest -- and there was a short pier extending over the water next to it with a boat sittin’ nearby.

As for the cabin itself, it didn’t look like any mounts had been tied to the hitching post recently, and there were no lights illuminating from inside. The building appeared completely still -- aside from the strong breeze howlin’ past it -- and I couldn’t see any tracks leading up to the front door. It must’ve been abandoned.

I quickly put my binoculars away, instantly urgin’ my horse into a steady gallop as she dug her hooves into the snow.

“Look, Eddie,” I said, pointing ahead, “...you see that? There’s a cabin. We’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna get you inside, and I’m gonna get a nice fire going. You’re gonna be alright. Just...just stay strong. Okay? Don’t die on me now. Don’t you die.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

O’CREAGH’S RUN

Kickin’ the cabin’s door open, I firmly held my pistol out in front of me and searched the house in case somethin’ nasty was waiting inside, only to find myself in the middle of a cold, dead house.

It didn’t look like anyone had been here in ages. There were empty cans of food scattered all over the kitchen table, stiff coats hangin’ lifelessly from hooks on the wall, mounted animal heads fixed above the fireplace, dusty photographs decorating the bleak interior, and nothin’ but ashes sitting in the place of what was once a warm fire.

It looked safe enough to stay for a few days -- or at least until Eddie could walk on his own again -- and there were also loads of winter clothes just lyin’ around for us to take. I didn’t have a clue what happened to their previous owner or what caused them to leave, but it was better than freezin’ our asses off in that goddamned snowstorm.

I put my gun away, deciding this would have to do for now.

Headin’ back outside, I slowly pushed through the dying blizzard and walked towards my horse as my boots sank into the crunchy snow below, hindering me much more than I expected.

It was tough enough navigating our way around here -- what with the ice-cold weather and lack of any civilization -- but it certainly didn’t help matters that we were both starving, tired, and entirely sleep-deprived.

I could only imagine how Eddie felt with that injured leg of his. Not only did the boy look like hell, the kid had also barely said a word to me ever since we fled from Beaver Hollow.

There was a certain hopelessness to him that I’d never seen before -- the same kind that Hosea carried in his final moments -- and even though he didn’t say it, I knew he thought we were both gonna die out here.

He just didn’t seem to care about anything anymore, now that our chances of survival were so low. And despite my reassurances, Eddie almost appeared to be...lost in his own head. As if he were finally learnin’ how to accept his own death. Like...he was comin’ to terms with the end. As if he believed our efforts had been for nothing.

...But I wasn’t gonna allow it.

We had fought too goddamned hard to die now. The whole word may have been against us, and Dutch may have been seekin’ revenge, but this wasn’t the first time Eddie and I had been forced to survive in the wilderness. We both knew what we were doing, and no matter how hard our enemies fought back, I wasn’t about to let ourselves get killed now.

We had to survive. We had to make it through this.

Steppin’ next to my horse, I looked up at Eddie who was currently slouched over in the saddle and placed a comforting hand on his lap, attempting to wake the boy up now that the sun was starting to sink behind the icy mountains.

“Hey,” I said, “I checked the cabin out. It looks pretty safe. Doesn’t seem like anyone’s been there for quite some time, and there’s also a fireplace inside. I think we can stay here for a while. What d’you think?”

Forcing his eyes open, Eddie weakly gazed at me and wrapped his coat tighter around himself, mumbling out a response.

“...Sounds good to me. Hell, anything does, so long as it’ll get us out of this...bloody snow...”

I reached my arms out, beckoning Eddie to climb down from the horse. “C’mon,” I offered, “I’ll help you down.”

Surprisingly, the boy refused.

“...N-No,” he protested, holding a hand up, “I...I can walk...”

“No, you can’t.” I insisted before scoopin’ Eddie into my arms and carrying him anyway. “Your leg is torn up. It’s gonna be a while until you’re walkin’ around anywhere on your own, but don’t worry. I’m gonna set you down somewhere, and...I’ll...I’ll have a look at it, I guess. See what else I can do.”

Eddie gave in to my persistence and practically melted into my grasp, croaking out his next words as he wrapped an arm ‘round my shoulder.

“...T-Thank you, Arthur.”

Taking Eddie to the front of the cabin, I pushed the door open with my foot and carefully brought the boy inside, rushing him over to the couch in front of the fireplace.

It wasn’t the softest or most extravagant couch -- and it looked like the cold had hardened it a bit, actually -- but it was right next to the only source of heat in the whole house. There were a lot worse places we coulda been at the moment, and I was just grateful we found some shelter to last us for more than a single night. It would have to do.

Gently layin’ Eddie on the couch, I paused for a moment when he let out a pained groan and checked to make sure he was okay before placing him down completely, allowing him to sink into the welcoming cushions.

“You alright?” I asked, earning a small nod from the pianist.

“...I-I think so.” He replied.

I knelt beside the couch, gesturing to his leg. “You, uh...mind if I take a look?”

Eddie sighed worriedly, clearly not eager to see the condition his injury was in. “I suppose someone will have to, eventually. Just...try not to move it around too much, okay? It...it hurts like hell.”

Slippin’ one of Eddie’s boots off, I placed the shoe aside and took hold of his knee before very delicately pulling up the edge of his pants, steadily unveiling a bloody mess as I untied the bandage I put there earlier.

It looked like the skin around the wound had only grown more agitated over the past day, and due to the lack of proper medical treatment, I could only assume it wouldn’t be too long before Eddie got somethin’ life-threatening like blood poisoning.

After all, there wasn’t much else I could do ‘cept for clean the wound and keep it from gettin’ infected. But even then, I didn’t know how to deal with an injury of this severity. There were no doctors around to help us out, and I weren’t exactly an expert when it came to stuff like this.

Goddammit. There had to be somethin’ I could do.

“...I won’t lie to you, Eddie,” I admitted with a nervous sigh. “It don’t look so good. The bleeding’s stopped for now, but we’re gonna need a professional to handle this.”

The pianist clenched his jaw in fear. “We don’t...we don’t have to...get rid of the leg, do we?”

“No!” I quickly assured. “No. It ain’t that bad. You’ll be fine. I’m sure we’ll think of something. In the meantime, you just rest, okay? I’m gonna get a fire going. It’s freezin’ in here.”

Standing up from the floor, I left Eddie alone for the time being and tossed a few logs into the fireplace before lightin’ a match on my boot, setting the wood aflame. It weren’t much compared to the wintry nightmare outside, but it shoulda been enough to warm this cabin up for now.

“Alright,” I said, turnin’ back to Eddie, “I’m gonna head outside for a little and see if I can’t find us somethin’ to eat. You gonna be okay on your own?”

Eddie barely nodded in response, already half-asleep. “...I’ll be fine...”

“Okay, then. I’ll be back soon.”

Grabbin’ my hand just before I could leave, the pianist held me back for a second as he uttered one last thing, rubbing my palm affectionately.

“...Please, stay safe, Arthur. We’re all we have now...and I don’t wanna see you end up like me. Or worse.”

I bent down, placin’ a quick but loving kiss on Eddie’s forehead.

“We’re gonna make it, Eddie.” I reassured. “Don’t give up just yet. ‘Cause I haven’t given up on you.”

“...I won’t.” Eddie promised, softly closing his eyes as he relaxed into the couch’s embrace. “I won’t.”

“Good.” I patted his hand. “Now get some sleep. I’m gonna go hunting for a bit. I won’t be too long.”

Leavin’ Eddie to his dreams, I gave the boy one final peck on the cheek and headed for the cabin’s foyer, eager to find us some food.

We weren’t gonna last much longer if we didn’t get somethin’ proper to eat soon -- and I didn’t know about Eddie -- but surviving off of chewing tobacco and canned sweetcorn didn’t sound like it’d get us far. Especially him.

Eddie needed strength now more than anything. His health was deteriorating at a dangerous pace, and I just hoped it wasn’t too late to do something about that leg of his.

We needed a way outta this situation, and we needed it fast.

The only question was...how were we gonna find it?

Swingin’ the front door open, I wasted no time in throwing myself back out into the snow as I hurried to my horse, only to notice that there was a stranger standing directly in my path.

At first, my initial instinct was to reach for my gun -- and I actually almost shot him on the spot -- but the closer I looked at the peculiar man, the less I saw him as a threat.

The man in front of me appeared to be in his late fifties or sixties and had a full head of grey hair as well as a long beard huggin’ the bottom of his jaw. He wore a wide, floppy hat with a feather attached to it along with a long, yellow coat, and the rest of his body was dressed in casual attire.

The one thing about him that really caught my attention though, was the rickety crutch tucked tightly under his armpit, and more importantly, the intricate, prosthetic leg secured to his knee.

Oh, Jesus Christ. I certainly hoped he wasn’t mirroring Eddie’s future.

Hobbling a few steps closer to me, the old man firmly aimed a revolver in my direction as he glanced at the fresh smoke comin’ from the cabin’s chimney, wonderin’ just who the hell I was.

He didn’t appear to be afraid of me or show any signs of nervousness, and if I was being honest, he actually seemed quite strong. There wasn’t a single hint of fear hidin’ in his expression, and judging by the majestic, golden horse that was trottin’ along beside him, I assumed this old man weren’t as feeble as he looked. It only piqued my interest in him more.

Bringin’ his stern, green eyes back to me, the stranger subtly flicked his gaze up and down as he examined me head-to-toe, forming an observation in his head before finally saying something, at last.

I could tell he wanted to just scare me off and be done with it, but I guessed something about the urgent demeanor I carried and the way I moved told him I was in need of somebody’s help. And being the good Samaritan he was...he just couldn’t shoo me away.

Breaking the silence, the old man tilted his head in suspicion and fearlessly walked up to me, finally decidin’ to greet the odd cowboy who had suddenly occupied his home.

“Nice of you to get the fire going.”


	32. Savior

From Arthur’s POV

Standing perfectly still in the bone-biting snow, a plethora of white flakes delicately fluttered to the ground around me as the old man and I stared at one another, neither of us saying a single word.

I didn’t know who the hell this stranger was, or where on Earth he came from, but I was willin’ to bet he was having the same thoughts about me. 

It was a rarity to find someone you could trust in this country, and with every misty breath the each of us took, I could feel my heart pounding faster and faster in anticipation.

The last thing I wanted to do was murder an innocent man in cold blood especially after everything we’d been through, but if takin’ his life meant protecting Eddie’s, well...then I weren’t gonna exactly have a choice.

I just hoped it didn’t come to that. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, mister...” I replied calmly, carefully raisin’ my hands in a diplomatic manner. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I...I thought this cabin was abandoned.”

The old man chuckled at that. 

“So, figured you’d move in, eh?”

I paused in confusion, glancing back at the house. “What? No. I...I just--”

Suddenly remembering that the stranger had no idea about Eddie, I brought myself to a halt and sealed my lips shut, hesitant to say anymore.

The old man probably thought I was the only one trespassin’ on his property at the moment, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about letting him know about the damn-near defenseless man resting inside. 

I doubted this stranger had any ill intentions and was just being cautious, but considerin’ how things turned out back at Dutch’s camp...I just didn’t know who I could trust anymore.

But it was his house after all, and more than likely...he was probably gonna learn about Eddie anyway, whether I liked it or not.

“You forget how to speak, boy?” The man teased, breakin’ me outta my thoughts. “What’re you doin’ here? I hope you ain’t plannin’ to rob me. Ain’t much to take from this cabin, ‘cept for a gorgeous view, heh. But I doubt you’re here for that. So...what is your business?”

Deciding to put my faith in this man, I remained quiet for a few moments more before lettin’ out a sigh of defeat, unable to lie any longer as I finally opened up to him.

“...I ain’t here to rob you, mister.” I explained, my tone sinking with worry. “It’s...it’s my friend. He’s inside. He was shot in the leg not too long ago, and now he can’t walk. But...there’s no doctors out here, and your cabin is the only kinda shelter I’ve been able to find in these woods. That’s why I’m here.”

Switchin’ to a more serious temperament, the old man’s casual grin disappeared at the dire news and he furrowed his brows in concern, looking through the cabin’s windows.

“...Your friend was shot?” He repeated. “By who? What happened?”

“Outlaws.” I answered vaguely, earning a sympathetic expression from the stranger.

“Ah...” he breathed out, his eyes downcast with discouragement, “I see. Did they rob you?”

I scoffed. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Roads ain’t safe, nowadays. Bandits are everywhere.” He gazed towards the horizon, changing the subject. “Where’d you two come from? Ain’t no towns around these parts. You locals?”

“No. We’re from the area around Annesburg. We’ve been runnin’ non-stop.”

His eyes widened in surprised. “Annesburg? Well, that explains why you look so tired. You boys covered a whole lotta ground to get here. And if I remember correctly, there are no doctors in Annesburg, are there?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Steadily holstering his gun with a change of heart, the old man limped towards me and softened his overall demeanor, offering to help out.

“Well, then...how about I take a look at your friend’s leg instead? I ain’t a professional exactly, but...” he gestured to his prosthetic limb, “I know a thing or two about leg injuries. Perhaps I can ease some o’ the pain.”

I woulda been lyin’ if I said the amputated leg didn’t concern me a bit, but I was in no position to refuse help. 

I mean, it wasn’t like we had the luxury of browsing any other options right now, and without the presence of any doctors or towns nearby, Eddie needed all the assistance he could get. Especially now that Dutch was comin’ after us too.

This stranger might’ve been the key to everything we needed. ...I just needed to learn how to trust him.

“...O-Okay,” I accepted, albeit with hesitance. “If there’s anything you can do, I’d appreciate it, mister.”

He reached a hand out, smiling sincerely at me. “It’s Hamish. Hamish Sinclair.”

I firmly shook his hand in return, nodding in a cooperative manner. 

“Arthur Morgan. My friend’s called Eddie.”

“Well, Arthur,” Hamish said, leadin’ the both of us into his cabin, “let’s you and I see what we can do for Eddie. I know how inconvenient life can be when you’re suddenly short one limb, and I certainly wouldn’t want him to experience the same fate.”

“Neither would I,” I responded, holding the door open for him. “...He’s been through enough.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Removin’ ourselves from the god-awful weather, Hamish and I quickly shuffled back into the cozy cabin as I showed the old man where Eddie was sleeping, both of us eager to get his leg fixed.

I still weren’t entirely sure if I could trust Mister Sinclair, and I kept a close eye on my gun just in case somethin’ went south, but so far, he seemed genuine enough. 

There was a certain sincerity to his temperament and the way he behaved, and if I was being honest, I couldn’t imagine Hamish secretly being an outlaw or something else.

He did seem a lot stronger than most people I met who were his age -- except for maybe Hosea -- but then again, not just anyone would’ve been able to survive in this part o’ the country. After all, there was next to no civilization ‘round this area, and the only food available came from the wildlife stalkin’ these woods. 

Hamish may not’ve struck me as an indecent man, but he was definitely a man I knew I didn’t wanna cross. 

At least, not for now.

“Eddie,” I called out, stridin’ over to the couch, “you awake?”

The pianist lay still for a moment before sluggishly forcing his eyes open to a slit, lookin’ up at me in confusion.

“...Arthur...?” He mumbled weakly. “...You’re back already...? Did you...did you catch anything?” 

Before I could answer, Eddie’s gaze flicked over to Hamish, causing him to grow even more puzzled.

“Wait, who’s he...?”

I gestured to Hamish with an introductory hand, scooting over a bit as the old man stood next to the couch.

“This is Hamish,” I answered. “I just met him outside. He lives in this cabin.”

Eddie quirked a brow. “...I thought this cabin was abandoned?”

A slight chuckle escaped me. “You and me both. Evidently though, we was wrong. He’s, uh...he’s offered to take a look at your leg. Thinks he might know how to fix it.”

Hamish joined the conversation, greeting Eddie with a gentle tone as he examined his injury.

“That’s one hell of a wound you’ve got there, friend. Arthur here says you were shot by a group of outlaws not too long ago. Must’ve been quite the mess.”

The boy nodded. “It happened yesterday. I don’t even know quite how, to be honest. It was just...all a blur.”

The old man knelt on the floor, bringin’ himself to eye-level with Eddie.

“Well, if you’ll allow me, I’m willin’ to see what I can do for your leg. I can’t guarantee my treatment’ll be as good as a doctor’s, but I’ve patched up more than a few battle wounds in my time. It’ll be better than doing nothing, anyway.”

Silenced by uncertainty, the pianist’s face was plastered by an expression of nervousness as his line of sight drooped down to Hamish’s amputated leg, causing the war veteran to reassure him.

“Ah, don’t let this scare you,” Sinclair said, picking up on Eddie’s fear. “My case was a much different one...and a much more instantaneous one. I ain’t gonna say you’ll be perfectly fine, but I doubt you’ll end up like me. So...what d’you say? We doin’ this or not?” 

Glancin’ up at me for guidance, Eddie took a second to ponder the offer as he considered his options, clearly aware that he didn’t have much choice, but perhaps reluctant to admit it. After all, there was no guarantee he’d come outta this okay, and on top of that, there was always the frightening question of “what if?” 

What if somethin’ went wrong? What if it was worse than we thought? What if, by some unforeseen tragedy, we had to get rid of the leg?

How did we know he’d survive the amputation? How did we know he wouldn’t just bleed out, or die because of some other reason that we had yet to think about?

There were so many unknowns looming over us like an incessant shadow, and the more we thought about it, the more I could see Eddie’s resolve flickering away like a witherin’ candle.

But deep down, the man knew he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Lettin’ the wound fester wasn’t gonna do anyone any favors, least of all him...and it was time we did something about it.

The path to recovery was undoubtedly gonna be a rough one, but it was one he had to take nonetheless.

Finally decidin’ to accept the offer, the pianist steeled himself and took a breath, bracing for what was about to come next.

“Alright,” Eddie agreed, his voice a tad shaky, “I...I trust you.”

Hamish nodded in a friendly manner and placed a warm hand on Eddie’s shoulder, attempting to calm him down.

“Good. This’ll only take a moment.” The old man turned to me. “Arthur, give us some space, will you? I work better when I’m on my own. Why don’t you wait in the kitchen in the meantime? I’ll holler if I need help with anything.”

I stayed in a place, admittedly uncomfortable with leavin’ Eddie alone.

“...You sure?”

Hamish gave me a genuine look. “I know we’ve only just met, Mister Morgan, but you can trust me. If anything unexpected comes up, I promise I’ll talk to you first before I make another move. But regardless of however you feel about me personally, that ain’t gon’ change the fact that this leg isn’t getting better on its own anytime soon. Your friend needs help.”

My words jumbled up into a stutter at that and I desperately tried to come up with any excuse that would let me stay by Eddie’s side, only for the man himself to reassure me before I could do anything else.

“...I’ll be okay, Arthur,” he whispered in a faint but soothing voice. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry about me.”

I let out a low sigh, dragging a hand down my face.

“How can I not?” I responded, doin’ my best to hide how stressed I truly was. “I...you--” 

“--You told me yourself that we were gonna make it,” Eddie recalled, his tone more serious. “Nothing’s changed. I’m going to be alright.”

Unable to deny that Eddie was right any longer, I finally forced myself to go along with Hamish’s idea and reluctantly began inchin’ my way towards the kitchen, feeling an almost irresistible urge to go back to the couch.

“Okay, then,” I said, my eyes still nailed onto the pianist. “I’ll...I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Just...take care of him, alright, Hamish?”

The man nodded firmly. “That’s the plan. Now, you go on and wait. I’ll try to make this as quick and clean as possible. Once I’m done, well...I suppose you and I can talk about where to go from there. But we’ll focus on that later. For now, just try to keep your heads up -- both of you -- and stay strong. After everything you’ve been through, strength is all you got now. And by Lord, are you gonna need it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

Waiting anxiously at the dinin’ table, I fidgeted with my hands on the clothed surface as my leg bounced up and down due to restlessness, causin’ the tiny spur on the back of my boot to rattle with a gentle clink. 

It had been...I dunno, maybe half an hour or so ever since Hamish started working on Eddie’s leg, and I had yet to hear any updates from him. 

Occasionally, I would overhear the poor pianist groaning through gritted teeth as the old man dug into his flesh, pullin’ out bits and pieces of the bullet that caused all this. 

It worried me sick to my stomach to think about what was happening to Eddie, but...as terrified as I was of the situation, I couldn’t deny the gratitude I felt knowin’ someone like Hamish was there to look after the boy.

I barely knew the man or who he even was, but the fact that he was willing to welcome us into his home and take care of the pianist’s wounds...it shifted something in the way I saw the world.

I mean, back when I was still with Dutch, Hamish would’ve been the exact type of person I woulda robbed. He was kind to strangers, all by himself, and he lived in the middle of goddamned nowhere. He was the perfect target for outlaws like me.

But...now that I actually got the chance to know the faces of my victims, it...it changed me. Made me realize that -- all them years of thievin’ and killin’ with Dutch -- none of it was worth it. Like the fool I was, I had allowed myself to be used for over twenty miserable years, and I was just now understanding it. 

I doubted there was any redemption for me after everything I’d done, but to be honest, I didn’t even know if that was what I wanted. 

All I wanted now was to protect those around me. It was what Hosea would’ve done if he was still alive, and it was what I planned to do. My own safety didn’t matter no more. Not as much as everyone else’s, anyway. 

My time in this world was limited now that I had the Pinkertons, and Dutch, and Atticus all comin’ after me at once, and I didn’t intend for my story to end the same way it started. 

It was time for me to be a better man. 

It was time for me to put down my gun, and live the life I was always meant to pursue. 

...I only wished I knew how to begin.

Bringin’ myself back to reality, I perked my head up in interest when I suddenly heard the faint sound of someone entering the kitchen, only to spot Hamish strolling through the doorway.

He was wipin’ his hands clean on a rag at the moment, and the troubled expression on his wrinkled face told me I wasn’t gonna like what he had to say.

The veteran didn’t seem too worried, so I hoped the news wouldn’t be that bad, but there was still somethin’ about the way he carried himself that said Eddie’s condition wasn’t the best it could’ve been. I just dreaded to hear how. 

I stood up from my chair, hoping to get a response outta him.

“Hamish,” I greeted as calmly as possible. “Is...is Eddie gonna be okay?”

The old man gave me a grim but honest look, quickly shaking his head.

“Okay?” He repeated, tossin’ the bloody rag into the sink, “no. The bullet messed his leg up pretty bad, I’m afraid. He’s probably gonna have a limp for the rest of his life. Or for many, many years, at the very least. On the bright side though...he doesn’t have to get rid of the leg. He just needs to focus on healing now.”

I let out a breath of relief, glancin’ at the floor. It wasn’t good news exactly, but it could’ve been much worse.

“Thank you, Hamish.” I said sincerely, looking him in the eye. “I mean it.”

He smiled subtly, resting a hand on a counter. “Don’t mention it. You know, I’ve got a couple o’ spare canes lyin’ around the house if Eddie needs one. I don’t know exactly where they are right now, but I’m sure I can dig ‘em up. He’s free to use one.”

Hamish gestured to the table, changing the subject. “But enough of that. Have a seat. I’ll pour us some coffee. I think it’d be best if you and I talked for a bit.”

I returned to my chair, leaning back in the piece of furniture. “Sure.”

“So...” the veteran began, gettin’ two mugs out, “let me ask you a question, Mister Morgan. ...You ain’t just any regular civilian, are you?”

I fell silent at the abrupt curiosity, admittedly a bit surprised by where this conversation was going.

“...I, uh...no. No, I’m not.”

Hamish filled the pair of cups with coffee, gently setting them down on the table. “That’s what I figured. You see, Arthur...I actually know who you are.”

I brought the warm mug into my hand, raising a brow. “Do you?”

The old man sat across from me, lettin’ his leg rest for a little. “Sure. You’re Arthur Morgan. You work with that fella -- oh, what’s his name...Dutch? Dutch van der Linde. You’re a part of his gang.”

I took a sip of my coffee, curious to hear what else Hamish had learned about me.

“You know about Dutch?” I asked.

He chuckled at that. “Half of America knows after robbery you boys pulled off in Blackwater. You certainly angered a hell lot of Pinkertons, but...don’t worry. You have nothin’ to fear from me. I’m just surprised your gang made it this far with the amount of lawmen tearin’ this country apart just to find you.”

I hesitated for a moment, starin’ down at the rippling reflection in my coffee. “Well...that’s the thing. Our gang don’t really exist anymore.”

Hamish paused. “What d’you mean? The Pinkertons found you?”

“No,” I corrected. “It weren’t them that did it. To be honest, we was already in danger even without the law chasin’ after us. It was our damned leader that caused the gang to fall apart. Dutch lost his mind in the end. Tried to kill Eddie once he suspected the boy was a traitor. Then tried to kill me when I defended him. We’ve been running since.”

The old man nodded in understanding. “I see. Well, that boy must mean quite a lot to you for you to choose him over Dutch.”

“He does,” I agreed, cupping my hands ‘round my mug. “He’s...he’s the closest friend I’ve ever found. And he’s a good man, too. ...I’m just tryin’ to keep him alive.”

Hamish leaned forward and looked directly into my eyes, givin’ me the same expression Hosea did whenever he used would offer people advice.

“Then the worst thing you can do is coddle him. I know it’s hard trustin’ your loved ones with their own safety sometimes, but if you ever want them to have a chance, you gotta let them learn how to do it on their own. You ain’t gonna always be there to protect them, after all. ...If you want Eddie to live, Arthur, you gotta make sure he’s prepared to survive.”

I took his words to heart, opening up completely to the veteran.

“How do I do that though? We’re nearly dead as is.”

Hamish downed the rest of his coffee. “Treat him as the man he’s capable of becoming. Not the boy he used to be. Eddie’s already strong, mind you, but he’s gonna need your help to get through this. And you’re gonna need his. But you can’t lean on someone if you’re constantly makin’ them lean on you. You get me?”

I looked over to where Eddie was sleeping, realizin’ that Hamish was right.

“Yeah. I do.”

The veteran’s smile returned to his face. “Good. Then I think I’ve said all I need to say. Anyways...” Hamish rose from his chair and limped to the kitchen’s entrance, putting his mug down on the counter. “C’mon. I’ll show you to the guest room. You should get some rest after all the travelin’ you’ve done. There’s also the fact that I’m planning to go out hunting tomorrow, and I’d like to have some company along.”

I finished my coffee, blinkin’ in confusion. “Tomorrow? You’re lettin’ us stay for the night?”

Hamish chortled. “Well, even if I wasn’t, I doubt Eddie would be able to get far with that leg of his. The way I see it, you boys are stuck with me for now. Hope you’re okay with that, ha!”

I was still uncertain. “Are you sure? You ain’t concerned about Dutch or the Pinkertons comin’ after us?”

“Of course I’m concerned,” he replied. “But not anymore than I’m concerned about my cabin being broken into, or a mysterious cowboy showin’ up at my front door. Things happen when they happen. All we can do is prepare for it.”

I rose to my feet, honestly a bit taken aback by Hamish’s generosity.

“Well, then...you have my thanks. Seriously. I owe you.”

The old man’s eyes twinkled with hospitality and he patted me on the arm, slowly guidin’ me to my room.

“And someday, you’ll repay me. But for now, just focus on gettin’ things back on track. This world ain’t a kind one...and it certainly doesn’t do favors for kind men.”


End file.
